


The Other Lavellan

by zadrisala



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Clan Lavellan - Freeform, Cullen Smut, F/M, Female Elf Lavellan, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Inquisitor’s Family, Lyrium Addiction, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Original Character - Freeform, Romance, Skippable Smut, Slow Build, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, not really slow burn more like dull soreness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-11-14 19:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18058781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zadrisala/pseuds/zadrisala
Summary: OC character: Inquisitor Lavellan’s kin. One other Lavellan survived the explosion at the Conclave. She joins the party and finds romance with Cullen. Not really but somewhat slow burn, lots of fluff, and there might be a skippable smut chapter at the end for those who don’t want one. Maybe around 13 chapters for this piece. (Already writing here and there, so will definitely finish!) :) Enjoy, and please leave comments!





	1. First Meeting

Cullen Rutherford let out a sigh as he rubbed his neck, closing his eyes and focusing on ebbing the dull pain behind his eyes. He tried his best to breathe slowly, to block out the clamor around him. Scouts and recruits yelling, Chantry sisters talking in hushed voices, some crying, some comforting the refugees and the people of Haven. Above it all, Chancellor Roderick’s voice, piercing through the commotion, with the heavy weight of Cassandra’s stern tone arguing back.

_ Fucking Roderick _ . Just when he sent the last agent away and had a moment’s silence. Cullen couldn’t help his face twist into a smirk as he watched the loud man attempt to look down on Cassandra— a feat that wasn’t likely to happen with the Seeker a full head taller than him, with a glare that could make a blighted bear run for cover. Cullen turned away and trudged through the snow to the edge of the Lake, away from the noise. He leaned against the dock on the frozen water and looked up at the apocalyptic sight above them. The green light from the breach was sharp and difficult to look at, and the scars running out from the gaping Fade made him feel clammy. 

_Fucking Breach. Fucking Chantry. Fucking Templars._ Cullen kicked a frozen pebble and watched it skid on the ice. Two days since the Herald had returned from Val Royeux with the ill news of the Templars’ betrayal— of Seeker Lucius’ betrayal. Though he had left the order, he had been optimistic about their support; so sure that they would do the _right_ _thing_. When the Herald told them what happened, he felt physically sick. The knot in his stomach had subsided now, but instead left him feeling dull. Angry, without the edge. Numb, without the cold. When he saw Cassandra’s usually stoic features falter with bitter sorrow and disappointment, he turned away. Her usual demeanor returned a blink later, but he had seen, and part of his hope he had been holding onto, his fondness for his old order despite himself, cracked. 

“There’s still a chance to reach out to them,” the Herald had said, and Cullen knew he had noticed Cassandra’s disappointment as well. The elf was perceptive to the point where Cullen swore he could read minds. Not that Cullen minded, really. It was a bit unnerving to see someone so purely unafraid of Leliana to the point of talking her out of killing a traitor, and even more unusual was his unabashed, straightforwardness with nobles who visited Josephine, but it was refreshing. Cullen was  _ human _ and he had trouble with snooty nobles, but the Dalish Apostate Herald never bat an eye. He was charming and polite enough to get away with saying anything, it seemed like. 

Cullen’s ears perked up at the sound of soft footsteps in the snow.  _ He really can read minds. _ He turned around to face the Herald, who was lightly stepping through the snow towards him, fixing his robes about him, tugging them closer to trap warmth. The Herald offered a slight grin— or rather a grimace— and nodded his head at Cullen, who gave a slight bow back. A soft glow from a small fire in his hands bounced off of his braided chestnut hair. 

“Varric said I’d find you out here,” he said, rubbing his slender fingers together. They glowed with a small fire, fast enough not to burn. “Gods, it’s cold here. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to it,” he grumbled. 

“You might if you wear something other than  _ that _ ,” Cullen gestured at the robes the Herald clung to. 

The elf grinned up at him. “Not all of us can pull off your great big pauldrons and furs,  _ Shem.  _ I’d drown in all of that, or catch fire. Looks very flammable.” He raised his eyebrows in feigned surprise. “Or is that what it’s for? Good kindling?”

Cullen gave a scoff, but couldn’t help but feel the heaviness on his chest somewhat lifted. He hadn’t had simple, casual banter in days, and it suddenly dawned on him how little he had talked to anyone other than orders and plans while the Herald and his party were away. Varric usually forced him to have a drink and game every night, to “smooth out that deep crevice between your eyes, Curly”. He made a note to himself to thank the dwarf later for keeping his sanity, though his money pouch could hardly say the same. 

“Did you need me for something, Herald?” He asked. The Herald was now playing hot potato with a small fireball.  _ Mages…show offs. _

“Hmm? Oh yes! I did. Well, I actually came to see how you were doing, but I did also need your help with something, if you have a moment.” The fire fizzled out and the Herald shoved his hands into his sleeves again. 

“Yes, of course. No urgent news at the moment, as I’m waiting on a few updates. We have new recruits pouring in from the Hinterlands after the words spread of your aid to the refugees. Most of them will need to be trained, and we’ll need to start setting up more room for sparring exercises.”

“Yes, that’s what I came to see you about!” The Herald turned and gestured an arm towards the surrounding wood by Haven’s walls. “I was hoping you would walk with me around the grounds. If there are any improvements we can make for the soldiers, I can find supplies for them and send information back when we travel to Redcliffe.”

Cullen eyed him warily. “You’re going to see the mages, then?” He asked. He was careful not to seem too discriminatory in front of the Herald, but he just couldn’t hide his doubts. The Herald noticed this and stopped walking. 

“Cullen, this does not mean I’ve given up on the Templars.” He said, his big grey eyes looking steadily at Cullen. “I have not given up hope that some will see reason and join us. I simply wish to see the situation with the rebel mages. After all, no information is bad information, yes?” He smiled and continued walking. 

“Of course, Herald,” Cullen followed him once more. “...Thank you,” he added. The Herald nodded and gave him another warm smile, but did not have time to respond as Cassandra marched up to them. 

“Ugh,” she spat, “Does that fool ever stop his prattling?” 

“I thought the Chancellor would be back in Val Royeux by now,” said the Herald, looking over her shoulder to peer at the angry man stalking off towards the chantry. “I’m surprised he wasn’t there to greet us with his friends.”

Cassandra snorted. “ _ I _ thought the Commander would have put him in the ice by now,” she said, casting an accusing look at Cullen, “but it appears that was simply wishful thinking.”

“Oh believe me, Seeker, I would have done if I thought it would be effective,” Cullen sighed, “but I don’t doubt that his echoes in the valley would still be heard when you got back.”

The Herald laughed jovially and clapped them on the shoulders. “Come, Cassandra, perhaps you can help us. We were about to find some more room for the new recruits.” 

The three walked past the training soldiers and further among the trees, past the old hut. They came to a clearing of trees that had been recently cut down for supplies. Cassandra and the Herald began chatting about using the extra stumps to set up targets as Cullen walked around the perimeter, trying to visualize the space needed for the number of recruits pouring in. He walked a bit further to mark a tree to be cut, when suddenly he felt the hair on his neck stand up. 

_ We’re being watched. _

Cullen’s hand automatically moved to his hilt as he strained his ears and slowly looked around at the snow covered terrain. Cassandra’s and the Herald’s voices drifted from several yards away. Cullen almost thought he had imagined hearing a rustle in the snow when suddenly he saw it.  _ Glint of a blade _ . He drew his sword and shouted out. “Come out! Name yourself, or I will attack!” 

There was a moment of silence. Cullen held his breath. Then, from behind the boulder, a figure stepped out. An elven woman, holding two long curved bloodstone daggers. Her black hair swept across her pale face, red ensalin, like blood, weaving across her features. Her large grey eyes stared at Cullen in determination, but he could see her fatigue even from this distance. Shadows under her eyes, a bruise yellowing her temple, her full lips cracked and purple from the cold. Her already pale skin seemed to reflect the light of the snow around her, casting a shadow over her cheekbones. She was beautiful, but hauntingly so. She shifted her feet and Cullen raised the tip of his sword in warning. 

“State your name,” he repeated. “What business do you have with—”

He stopped as he took in her clothing; dark green scout armor, the same as the Herald when they had found him at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. And her eyes. The same large, grey eyes. 

“Wait,” He said, lowering his sword slightly, “you... can’t be—-”

He could hear running behind him, and Cassandra and the Herald appeared at his side, Cassandra with her sword drawn, the Herald with sparks flickering at his fingertips.

“ELYNIL!” The sudden shout from the Herald almost made both Cassandra and Cullen jump, but before they could react, he was charging towards the woman. The Herald lunged forward and wrapped her in a tight embrace as Cassandra looked to Cullen for an answer, but he did not have one. The Herald spoke frantically in elven, to which the elf woman replied in a low voice. He let out a shaky sigh, and reached out to tuck a lock of her hair behind her pointed ears.

“Someone you know, I presume?” Cassandra sheathed her sword and eyed the elf as she picked up her weapons and sheathed them as well. 

“Yes, this is Elynil… We came to the conclave together, she is my kin. I thought her dead, like the others…” He protectively brushed snow off of her leather. 

“How did you survive?” Cassandra asked Elynil, “Were you not at the Temple of Sacred Ashes?”

“No,” Elynil spoke, louder than before, but they could hear the fatigue in her hoarse voice. “I was making my way to the Temple when the explosion happened. I was to join the First at the temple, but then…” she trailed off, shuddering. “ _ Ir abelas _ , Ashaanon, the others… I couldn’t…” tears formed in her eyes and she looked down.

“What matters now is that you survived, and have found us now, sister,” said the Herald firmly. “Do you have anything else? We should get you to a healer, you’re in no cloth for the cold.”

Elynil stopped the Herald as he tried to usher her forward. “I have Lothan and Varoth with me. They found me after I woke, and Varoth brought us here. They’re beyond the cliffs, I left them in case I found trouble.”

“They survived? I wonder… They must have sensed the explosion and gotten away from the camp. I’ll find them. Cullen, take her to the healer right away. Cassandra, with me.” The Herald touched Elynil’s forehead once more and murmured something in elven, and turned and began walking in the direction she had gestured. 

Elynil’s eyes widened and she grasped the sleeve of his robes. “Ashaanon!” She cried, and Cullen saw fear and desperation in her eyes. The Herald gently took her hands and with a flash of warmth, rubbed them gently. 

“ _ Atish’an, lethallan…  _ You are in Inquisition territory now.” He said softly to her. “You are safe. Cullen will take you to a healer, and I will come to you as soon as I find Lothan and Varoth. You are safe now.” He repeated, and let go of her white cold hands and walked away, past the trees and boulders with Cassandra. 

Elynil stood there staring after him, until she winced and dangerously swayed. Cullen automatically shot his arms out to catch her, causing her to flinch, but she was too weak to back away. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, flustered at his own sudden movement as he steadied her, “I didn’t mean to frighten you earlier. I just—“ and his breath hitched as she looked up at him. 

Though her body was cold and she could barely stand, her eyes were steady, unwavering and fearless as they met his. Her grey, stormy eyes, like a blizzard cloud, seemed to pierce through him, unlike the Herald’s soft gaze. He instinctively looked down, away from her intensity, and saw her hands, nearly as stiff and white as the ice on the lake.

“Here,” he murmured, and he took off his thick leather gloves. “Er… may I?” He tentatively reached for her hand, and when she didn’t protest, he slipped his gloves over her thin fingers. She let out a small sigh of relief at the warmth, and he couldn’t help but smile as he covered her other hand as well. “I’m sure that feels much better,” he said. She nodded, wiggling her fingers in the thick gloves to reach more heat. She seemed so small, so frail in her snow soaked boots. Cullen reached under his pauldrons to unfasten the sash around his armor. He wrapped it around her shoulders, which she hugged to her shivering frame. 

“Come, let’s get you to a healer. We need to do better than a thin piece of cloth for warmth.” He took a step forward, but his movement unbalanced her again and she fell forward, wincing as she knocked against his now bare, cold armor. 

“Sorry!” Cullen apologized again, steadying her by the elbows. “Are you… Can you even walk anymore?” 

As he asked the question, the answer was obvious. Elynil’s lips had turned pale and her knees visibly shook before she buckled to the ground. 

“Shit!” Cullen caught her by the arms just before she hit the frozen ground. 

She slumped limply against him, shivering as he kneeled beside her. He touched her neck. Her skin was ice cold, but he could detect a faint pulse. Cullen swore under his breath and scooped an arm under her knees to lift her, bracing her into his torso. He was  _ not _ going to explain to the Herald that his only surviving clans woman from the conclave had died because he had not rushed her to a healer right away. Cullen ran, carrying the alarmingly light and cold elven woman back to the Chantry, barging into the healer’s room. After being ushered out by her, he leaned against the walls of the Chantry, trying to catch his breath.

Josephine walked up to him, looking concerned at the commotion he had caused. He answered her looks between breaths. 

“The Herald… Another Lavellan.. survived the conclave.”


	2. Chapter 2

A couple days had passed and the word was still buzzing around Haven that the Herald’s only other surviving clans woman was discovered and in recovery. 

 

“Another elf?” “Of course she’s an elf, you twit, she’s from the same clan as the Herald!”

 

“A mage?” “No, I heard she was the Herald’s guard at the conclave.” “Well she didn’t do a very good job then, did she?” “Oh, shut up. No one could have… It’s a miracle she survived at all.”

 

The Herald was dashing in and out of the healer’s room, from Adann for potions and tonics to Harrit for clothing and armor, he had been very busy the first day, but now he stood with Cullen, observing the training recruits with a somewhat glum look.

“The healer told me Elynil just needs to rest, so I had to get out,” he sulked. “How am I supposed to concentrate on anything when I don’t know if she’s alright?”

Cullen sighed. This was the 6th time the Herald had asked the same question. 

“The healer isn’t going to let someone die of cold, she’s better than that,” he responded. “Skinner, there’s a shield in your arm, block with it!” He yelled. 

“And if you’re looking for something to do, you could help Master Dennet feel more at ease with the two you brought,” he said, nodding his head over to the stables. Varoth and Lothan had not, as Cullen had thought, been two more Dalish clansmen, but instead two very large harts. The Herald trotted them into Haven with Cassandra the day they found Elynil, and a small flock of Inquisition scouts had been gathered around them ever since, with Master Dennet looking impressed but unsure of the rather aloof creatures. 

“Ah, he’ll be fine, they’re not that much different from your Ferelden Hounds,” said the Herald dismissively. “Besides, Elynil is the one he should talk to about them, she’s the hart-whisperer. I’m not surprised they found her.” The Herald grew quiet, watching the recruits clash swords. 

Cullen looked at the harts, one auburn and one black, both with impressive antlers. It was hard not to be in awe of the creatures, and even more so the Dalish, after seeing the Herald speak to them in elven as though they could understand him like Mabari. It was hard to imagine the petite frames of the Herald or Elynil mounted on top of the beasts, let alone traveling lands on them. Cullen had seen Halla before, but these were different; they were stronger, more assertive, and Cullen could tell that they, much like Mabari, were beasts whose loyalty was hard won. The harts seemed to relax after reassurance from the Herald, and were even taking treats from Master Dennett's hands now. 

“At the conclave, I told her to wait for me at our camp at the bottom of the mountain,” said the Herald, still watching the soldiers, though Cullen could tell he was not really paying attention to their movements. “We were sent by our keeper, with a few of our other clansmen, to come to the conclave and report back the results. We never could have imagined it would turn out like this…” he shook his head lightly.

“Elynil, she wanted to come with me. She always does. We grew up doing everything together. We hunted together, played together… When the Keeper chose me as her first, she started leading hunts, scouts, gathering information for the clan. We always were together because of that, too. She’s the one who learned of the conclave and reported back to our Keeper. When we got there, I told her to wait at our camp and gather any information she could from others. But she said she just had a bad feeling about letting me go alone, so she decided to follow… She was part way up the mountain when the explosion happened. The harts found her, she doesn’t know how long she was unconscious. When she looked for the rest of our kin, she found them... dead, hit by shrapnel or the explosion itself. The only one she couldn’t find was me, so she started looking…” He sighed wearily and looked at the harts, a small smile on his lips. “Varoth tracked my scent all over the place, until they found us here. Good beast.”

Cullen placed a hand on the Herald’s shoulder in comfort. “She’s a good scout, too.” The Herald nodded. 

“I really thought I lost her. I couldn’t even bare to hope…” he shook his head and looked up. “I’m so thankful that even one of my kin survived.”

 

“Hey Herald! Look who’s up!” Varric‘s voice called from the doors. 

Cullen looked up as the Herald whirled around. Varric was leading Elynil down the snowy steps, one hand hovering under her elbow in case she slipped. 

“Easy, kid,” he told her, “You’re still supposed to be resting so just take it easy.”

Elynil had changed from her ill equipped armor to thicker, fur lined robes and boots. Her face seemed fuller now, pale cheeks flush pink from the cold still, but her glow was not only the reflection of the snow. Her lips were rosy rather than purple, and her eyes seemed brighter, although still showing shadows of fatigue. Her black hair fell around her shoulders, framing her pointed chin.

The Herald darted over to her, steadying her by the arms worriedly. 

“How are you feeling? You’re allowed to be out now?” He asked, surveying her up and down as if to scan her for injury. 

“I’m fine, Ashaanon, I can walk by myself,” Elynil’s voice sounded stronger now, her clear tone like a soft Chantry gong. Her grey eyes met Cullen’s, and she gave a small smile and bow towards him. Cullen let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

_ Maker, she’s beautiful.  _ The haunting look she had when he had found her half dead was melted away save for a slight shadow under her eyes, and Cullen found himself unable to look away.

He cleared his throat and walked towards them. “You’re feeling better, Lady Lavellan?”

She blinked at him, and looked at the Herald. “‘Lady Lavellan?’” She repeated, “and the healer kept calling me ‘dear’. I didn’t know shems could be this nice.” She smiled slightly.

Varric chuckled, “Only here, kid. Well, they’d better be.”

“Still, I’ve never been called ‘Lady’ Lavellan before. Not sure if I’ll get used to it, but it’s a nice change.” She smiled at Cullen. The iciness in her glare was no longer there, but was replaced with a warmer gaze through her grey eyes. 

_ Like clouds after a storm, rays of light shining through to warm the lake. _

“You were the shemlen who took me to the healer. Your name… Commander Cullen? Ashaanon told me. _ Ma serranas _ ,” she said, bowing deeper this time. “I owe you my life.”

Cullen could feel his cheeks grow warm, and he determinedly refused to glance at Varric, whose stare he could suddenly feel like an arrow. He raised his hands in protest. “No, please,” he said, “There’s no need. I’m glad you’re feeling well.” 

“Herald!” Cassandra walked down the steps towards them. “Lady Lavellan,” she added, bowing her head to Elynil. “I am glad to see that you are recovering.”

“Oh, yes, thank you, er… Lady… Cassandra…?” She looked questioningly at Cassandra.

“I know she doesn’t  _ seem _ like one, Snowflake, but you can call her that too,” Varric smirked. Cassandra’s nostrils flared dangerously. 

“Oh! No! That’s not— I wasn’t sure— I heard others call you ‘Seeker’ but I didn’t know what that meant. Should I call you that? Lady, I mean. Or Seeker?” Elynil looked at the Herald for assurance. He rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry, they’re just like that to each other.”

“You may call me whichever you prefer, my lady,” Cassandra replied, still glaring at Varric. She turned to the Herald. “Herald, I am sorry to interrupt, but we must be going if we are to go to the Storm Coast. I have word that Scout Harding has set up post already, and if we are to meet these ‘Chargers’ before heading to Redcliffe...”

“Right, well, at least I know you’re safe now,” sighed the Herald. “We’ll be back in a couple of weeks. Please rest,” he tugged the cloak around Elynil’s shoulders tighter, “You’re safe here. And no,” he said firmly as Elynil opened her mouth in protest, “you’re not coming with. Not this time. Besides, look at you!” He nudged her shoulder gently and Elynil swayed off balance, before he pulled her steady again. “You can barely walk on your own. What are you going to do, lay down in front of demons and  _ trip _ them?” 

Elynil shut her mouth, seemingly trying to think of something to say, before letting out a huff and muttering, “Yes,  _ Herald _ .” 

The Herald made a face. “Don’t say that, it’s  _ weird _ when  _ you _ say that.” He turned to go back up the steps with Cassandra and Varric. “Two weeks,” he repeated.

“Don’t worry, Snowflake, we’ll look after him,” Varric said. With a glint in his eye as he looked at Cullen, he added, “And don’t worry, Cullen is sturdy. He can look after you, so don’t hesitate to ask!” 

Cullen felt his cheeks grow warm again.  _ Fucking dwarf _ .

  
  
  
  
  


Over the next two weeks, Elynil’s strength returned. She could walk on her own now, and she spent the days either following Solas around Haven or speaking with Leliana and Josephine. Leliana was particularly interested in any information she could get about the Free Marches, and Elynil had plenty to offer as she had lead many scouting excursions to nearby human cities and always participated in Dalish clan meets. Cullen saw her in the tavern during the nights after he had finished the day’s training with recruits, and she usually sat by him to eat and talk to him about the Inquisition and the Herald.

She had gained respect and many friends in the short time she had been at Haven. He was surprised that even Solas seemed at ease around her, even though he seemed prickly at best with others, even elves, around Haven. Cullen had heard recruits gossiping about her already, though they would gossip at a difference in wind if they had the chance. Though he was quite prepared to give a good scolding had he heard the phrase “knife ear”, he was pleasantly surprised when they had just been commenting on her helpfulness with training efforts and gathering healing herbs in the area. 

Overall, Cullen was just relieved that she had recovered so quickly. She was quieter than the Herald, but her friendly demeanor encouraged more soldiers to talk to her, which Cullen appreciated when he sat next to her in the tavern. He could judge the morale of the soldiers much more when they spoke openly to her. 

He frowned as he saw a recruit leave his left rib cage wide open while sparring. 

“He should keep his elbow tucked to his side, and wrists turned in so he doesn’t leave himself open .”

Cullen startled at Elynil’s voice, which had seemingly appeared out of thin air. She was standing next to him, watching the recruits. She was dressed in a thicker, fur lined leather armor now, and her hands rested lazily on her hilts of her daggers. Elynil looked Cullen up and down. 

“You’re not wearing your armor today?” She asked, gesturing at his simple attire. He had left his armor off today, as he had anticipated being in the War Room planning strategies with Josephine, but she had been called to tend to visiting nobles. He wore a thick fur lined cloak to shield himself from the cold instead, but his sword remained at his side.

“No, my lady. I didn’t expect to be out of the Chantry today.”

She tossed her hair lightly out of her face and walked over to the recruit, and Cullen watched as she corrected the blushing boy’s posture. Satisfied with her corrections, she returned to Cullen. 

“They’re doing well,” she said. Cullen was reminded of Chantry bells again. “Even the new ones. They follow a good captain.” She gave a small smile to Cullen. 

“Ah, yes, well,” he cleared his throat, “they’re putting in good effort. They’re dedicated to the cause.” 

“A group doesn’t fall in order like that just because of a ‘cause’”, she replied, “They believe in you. In your command. I haven’t heard a single doubt of you since I got here, only praise.”

Cullen felt his neck grow warm. He never knew what to do with direct praise. He rubbed the back of his neck as he searched for the right words. Elynil smiled at his reaction, then turned and reached into her leather pouch across her back, drawing out his gloves and sash. She handed them to him. 

“Here. Thank you again for saving me.”

Cullen took the bundle from her hands. “Please, don’t mention it. I’m just happy you’re looking so well, my lady” he said. 

Elynil chuckled. “Glad you think so,” she murmured. 

“Oh, I meant— I mean, you do, I…”  _ Maker,  _ what was wrong with him? She raised an eyebrow in amusement. He looked down at the gloves instead, and picked up the little dried flower that was resting on top. 

“That’s something we use in our clan in soaps and things. Smell it,” she said. Cullen sniffed it. Even though it had been dry for weeks at least, it still gave a light, sweet scent. 

He smiled. “Thank you, my lady. I will take your hint and bathe with it tonight.”

She laughed a smooth, melodic laugh as she touched his forearm. Cullen felt his heart skip a beat. “I didn’t mean that! Besides, I already like the way you smell.” She smirked cheekily at him. 

“Oh, thank you kindly,” Cullen replied sarcastically, stealing another glance at her. She was really stunning when she smiled. Her grey eyes were warm now, playful. The hardness in her face when he had first laid eyes in her was nowhere to be seen. 

Elynil graciously changed the subject before he had to scramble for more words. “I was hoping you could show me more of Haven’s grounds. I would like to know your opinion on how the Inquisition is running, as it’s commander.”

“Of course, my lady, I believe there is time now.” He called over the Lieutenant to watch over training, and handed his gloves and sash to a recruit to take to his quarters. The flower he tucked into his tunic, under his cloak. 

They strolled around Haven, up from the bridge to the woods where Cullen had found her. Elynil asked questions about the Inquisition, and Cullen answered every one, glad to talk with someone as enthusiastic as himself. After a while, she began asking questions of himself, and Cullen was surprised to find himself speaking so easily— about Kirkwall, about Ferelden and his siblings, the Hinterlands and Redcliffe.

The sun lowered, the pink and orange glow clashing with the Breach. They walked slowly around the lake, now, stopping at the frozen dock and looking out at Haven across the ice. She leaned against a boulder as they fell into a comfortable silence, watching as the light from the sunset basked the Chantry in gold warmth. 

Cullen took in her sight while she wasn’t looking. Her hair was blowing lightly away from her face, and he followed the trail of her ensalin down her neck where it disappeared under her armor.  _ Maker, she’s beautiful.  _ He hadn’t felt at ease like this with someone for a very long time— years in fact. 

She turned to look at him, and their eyes met. Cullen flushed, aware that he was caught staring at her, but Elynil just smiled. 

“Something on your mind?” She asked.

“Just a memory,” Cullen lied, “there was a lake near where I grew up, in Ferelden. I used to spend a lot of time there, to get away from noise at home. I love my siblings,” he chuckled, “but sometimes I needed to clear my head. Standing here reminded me.” 

Elynil chuckled. “I bet they always found you, though.”

Cullen sighed, “They always did. But the few minutes of peace was always nice.”

“Well,” Elynil made to get up and Cullen reached out a hand to steady her. She smiled and took his hand, though he noticed she lifted herself effortlessly. “If you ever need to clear your head these days, let me know. We can make a diversion. I’m sure Sera has a few tricks up her sleeve.”

Cullen laughed and shook his head. “Sera’s tricks tend to give me a worse headache, so I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he said. He was suddenly aware that he was still holding her hand. He loosened his fingers slightly, in case she would pull away.

“Ah, right,” she smiled, looking down at their hands, “well, I’ll think of something.” Her grey eyes, twinkling with mischief, caught his, and this time Cullen didn’t look away. Her hand still rest in his palm, and he tentatively curled his fingers around her once more, his heart relieved when she did not resist. Elynil’s eyes dropped to his mouth, and Cullen felt himself leaning forwards as though something was pulling him towards her. 

“Commander!!”

Elynil’s eyes snapped up and she drew her hand so quickly that Cullen barely felt it. She turned and busied her gaze at Haven. Cullen felt a pool of frustration in his gut and he turned abruptly towards the voice. 

“What?” He asked gruffly as Jim, the ever dutiful agent, shuffled up to them while shuffling a report in his hands. 

“Sister Leliana said I was to give you this report right away— er… ser?” Jim looked up and caught sight of the Commander’s disgruntled look. 

Elynil cleared her throat and started walking past them. “I’m going to go see if I can help Flissa with the rations for tonight,” she said. Though her voice was confident, Cullen noticed the tips of her ears had turned pink.

Cullen sighed as he watched her walk away, barely hearing Jim read the report as he squeezed his hand, already missing the warm feeling that was there moments before. 

 

When he was finally done talking to Leliana about the report, Cullen headed to his quarters in hopes of dinner rations being delivered. He sat down on his bed and closed his eyes, letting a deep breath out. The image flashed into his mind of Elynil’s large eyes watching his mouth, her full rosy lips parted just slightly…. Cullen felt his face grow hot. 

What was he doing? Had he really just tried to kiss the Elynil? And… was she going to let him? He sighed again, and thought back to their hours long walk together. He hadn’t felt so relaxed in a very long time. He certainly hadn’t felt this kind of interest in anyone for even longer.

The door knocked as he was hanging his tunic on the back of the table. He hesitated, trying to decide whether he should put it back on, before deciding against it. It was probably Jim, he always delivered his meals.

He opened the door and immediately regretted this decision. Elynil was standing there with a tray of food. Her eyes darted to his chest, then to the wall behind him.

“Erm…. I’m sorry… I can come back—“ she stammered, pointedly looking anywhere else.

“No!” Cullen almost yelled. His cheeks burned. “I mean, it’s fine, please—“ he ripped his cloak from the bed frame and threw it around him. 

“I was— I thought you were Jim, he usually delivers food, I’m sorry,” Cullen stuttered as she walked inside and set his food on his table. 

“No, he had something to do for Sister Leliana,” she said, fixing the parchment on his table so they wouldn’t touch the food. “I offered to deliver food for you and Lady Montiliyet.” 

“Ah…” Cullen said weakly. He was sure what to say. Was she as embarrassed as he was? He couldn’t see her face. Why wouldn’t she look at him? 

The tension was heavy in the cold room as Elynil finished setting out the food. She turned, and without looking Cullen, she headed for the door. 

“I should be getting this tray back to the kitchens, Flissa needs it…” 

She was deliberately not looking at him. Was it because of his advances earlier? Cullen suddenly felt a panic grip his chest and he strode to the door as she did. Before she could open it fully, he reached over her shoulder and pushed it shut with one hand. 

“My lady, I—“ he stammered. Realizing how aggressive he was being, he took a breath. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, letting his hand slip from the door. “For this. And for earlier, I— I shouldn’t assume you would feel… the same way…” the words tasted bitter in his mouth.  “It won’t happen again, I assure you. I apologize for my lack of control.” 

Elynil finally turned around, and when her eyes met Cullen’s, his heart sank.  _ Here it is. I’m done for. _

“I don’t recall anything that warranted an apology,” she said. 

Cullen blinked. She stared calmly back at him. Cullen’s head was reeling with confusion and light panic as he tried to formulate a response. Just then, a low horn rang out through Haven, echoing through the Chantry. Elynil’s ears perked. 

The Herald had returned. 

“Ashaanon,” Elynil murmured. She side-stepped Cullen and opened the door again.

“Eat before it gets cold, Commander,” she said over her shoulder as the door slammed behind her. 

Cullen let himself fall forward to the door, knocking his forehead on the wood. He closed his eyes, heart still pounding in his ears, mind still hurting from the mix of emotions. But he didn’t have time to wrestle with himself just now.

Cullen tugged his tunic and cloak on again and took a few hurried bites of the stew Elynil had left before heading to the War Room. The Herald was already inside with the rest of the advisors, and one more man that Cullen did not recognize in the corner. The man smirked at Cullen, looking him up and down, before stepping forward into the light. 

“Well, now that everyone is here, should we start with introductions?” Light from the lanterns glistened off his styled mustache. 

“Dorian Pavus, Altus of the Tevinter Magesterium at your service.”

 


	3. Destruction of Haven

The people of Haven danced and sang as drink flowed, the best of the salted pork was brought out by Chantry sisters, and wine spilt as they toasted their goblets to the sky. The Breach was closed, and all that remained was a scar in the sky, cutting through clouds.

Cullen watched the merry mages dance with a light smile on his lips. He felt guilty, now, for doubting them. Not for being cautious, but he was very happy that the plan had worked. He shuddered to think what would have happened if it didn’t.

A cold goblet touched his cheek and he jumped, looking reproachfully at who he assumed was Varric. Elynil stood there instead, smiling up at him and offering him a goblet of sweet wine. He fixed his expression immediately and grinned back at her, accepting the wine.

“Enjoying the party?” She asked, hopping onto the wall he leaned on. She swung her legs over and sat down.

“Mm,” he replied, taking a drink. “It’s nice to see so many smiling faces after a long time.” She nodded and looked out at the people. Cullen stole a glance at her. Her long hair still braided up from battle, her angular features flickered in the fire light. Fighting the demons at the Breach was the first time Cullen had seen Elynil in action. Her slender figure wove through the battlefield, felling demons swiftly with seemingly effortless swipes of her twin blades. Cullen had never seen such a graceful warrior; even the Champion of Kirkwall was a second to Elynil. He was proud to have her coaching the scouts and recruits how to fight, as well.

“I liked fighting with you,” she said suddenly, still watching the dancing.

Cullen coughed on his gulp of wine, and she looked briefly at him, amused.

“You move so elegantly, my lady, I would have thought you were dancing rather than fighting,” he replied, once he recovered.

Elynil chuckled. “Ma serranas,” she said. “If only I were as good at dancing than I am at fighting.”

“You too?” Cullen laughed. Elynil pulled a face.

“Too much footwork, it’s so complicated,” she said, “at least in our dances. I’ve seen Shem dances too, though, and I don’t think I’d be proficient at that either.”

“I admit I haven’t had much experience with it,” Cullen said. “Templars never had balls so we never got much practice.”

“Well, if I may be selfish, I’m a little glad of that,” she laughed. “I would hate to be sitting on this cold wall alone.”

 

At that moment, the watchtower guard began clanging the alarm furiously. Elynil and Cullen looked at each other, all humor vanished, and simultaneously began running for the gate. A scout came bursting through as they reached it.

“Enemy approaches, Commander, in large numbers!” She panted, pointing behind her. Lights approached from beyond the lake, coming over the mountains. The doors slammed shut once more

The Herald ran over with Cassandra in tow. Leliana appeared from the tents.

“What’s happening?” The Herald asked Elynil.

“Enemy numbers across the lake,” Cullen said as he turned to the scout and began giving orders. “All men to arms, block the perimeter, do NOT let them get past that lake, Scout!”

There was a banging on the doors and despite the people of Haven clamoring and screaming, they all listened intently at the source.

“I can’t come in, if you don’t let me!” Cried a young man’s voice. The Herald nodded for the gates to open, and Elynil drew her blades. A young man with a large brimmed hat cautiously fell through the gates.

“I came to warn you,” he said, wide eyes peering at the Herald, “The elder one is coming. He has the Templars, the red Templars, and he wants his mages. There,” he said, pointing a shaking finger to the cliff above the lake. Cullen’s eyes widened as he saw who stood there.

“Samson… I know that man… but the other…”

“He’s very angry that you took his mages,” said the man.

“Cullen, give me a plan! Anything!” The Herald said, looking at the commander.

Cullen drew his sword and turned to the gathered mages and Inquisition soldiers behind them.

“Haven is no fortress; if we are to survive then we must gain control. Get out there and hit them with everything you can!”

“Dorian, Blackwall, Cassandra, Varric, with me!” The Herald called as he stepped forward to the gates. “Bull, dispatch the Chargers as you see fit, but get the people into the Chantry and away from the battle. Elynil,” he turned to her, “Stay with Cullen, stay near the gates. Leliana, we need scouts help the Chargers keep the people of Haven safe.”

Elynil nodded and Leliana headed swiftly to her men.

Cullen turned back to the mages. “Mages!” He called out, “you have sanction to engage with them! That is Samson, and he will not make it easy. Fight for your lives! Fight for Haven! Fight for the Inquisition! With the Herald!”

The Mages erupted in a roar and thundered out of the gates on the heels of the Herald.

Cullen charged forward, blood ringing in his ears as he ran towards his former Brothers in Arms. With each clash of steel, each body fallen around him, bitterness grew, and anger fueled his body. Samson… why Sampson? Son of a bitch, what have you done?

He cut another red Templar down and looked around him. Where was Elynil? She was supposed to follow him. As he scanned the area and didn’t see her, his anger turned to panic.

“Lady Lavellan!!” He shouted, looking frantically around. “Elynil!!”

The horrible sound of blades entering a live body made him turn around. Elynil stood up, wiping the blood spattered on her face, over the body of a red Templar only feet away from him.

“My lady!” He said, relieved. But she was glaring at him as she walked up to him. Before he could react, she slapped him across his face.

“If you worry about people who are giving their lives for the battle, you’ll lose your own,” she snarled. “Your soldiers are giving their lives for you, Commander,” she spat the word at him, “if you die, then who will lead them? Pay attention!” She finished, shoving him to the left and throwing a short dagger at an oncoming Templar. The blade landed its mark between the Templar’s eyes and she ran to collect it.

Cullen felt her slap sting his cheek and shook the surprise from his eyes. He felt anger threaten to bubble up inside him, and he took a step towards her.

“You—“ he started, but before he could say more, the ground trembled and a deafening roar sounded from the direction of the west trebuchet. Then, as they looked on in horror, a dragon appeared behind the running Herald and circled the lake.

Elynil and Cullen looked at each other and nodded. Their argument could wait. Cullen ran towards the gates of Haven and Elynil made a beeline for the Inquisition soldiers still fighting the Templars. Cullen slammed the gates behind them as they ran inside.

“What,” yelled Dorian, “was that! A dragon?!”

“Get to the Chantry,” said Cullen, gritting his teeth. “It’s the only thing that could possible stand against.. that thing. At this point, just make them work for it.”

The Herald ran towards the buildings, his party in tow.

“Cullen!” Elynil grabbed his hand as he started to run. “I”m sorry— I lost composure, and—“

“We can talk about this after we survive the damn dragon, my lady,” Cullen said, agitated. “Please, you have to get to the Chantry.”

Elynil nodded and started running with him. Up the stairs, however, they suddenly heard a choked voice, coming from the building that was being rapidly consumed by fire.

“H-help! Someone, please!”

Elynil ran to the door, but the door was jammed. “Cullen!” She cried, “Cullen, help me!”

Cullen mustered as much energy as he could and slammed his shoulder into the door. The hinges snapped and the door gave way. Elynil darted inside. Seggrit the merchant was on the floor, trapped by fallen wood beams. The fire from the roof was getting dangerously close.

As Cullen grabbed one end of the beams and lifted, Elynil slipped under his arms and dragged Seggrit out of the rubble. Cullen released the beams and helped Seggrit to his feet and ran out of the house.

“Go! My lady, run!” He shouted over his shoulder. They escaped just in time. As soon as they hit the snow, the house collapsed in a pile of fire and smoke behind them. Cullen dragged a barely conscious Seggrit into the Chantry, where two Sisters took him from his arms. He turned around. Elynil was standing next to him with a grimace as she held her arm gingerly. Her sleeves were burnt, and blood from her burned skin seeped through her fingers. Cullen’s face went white and he reached for her arm, but she yanked herself out of his reach and fixed him with a stern glare.

The Chantry doors opened again and the Herald came through, with a few other Haven civilians. As they tried to decide what to do, Elynil moved over to a medic who wrapped her arm lightly with a bandage. She grabbed some more cloth and moved over to the injured on the ground, working swiftly to cover as many wounds as possible.

The door slammed shut after the Herald and Cullen came over to her.

“The Herald is going to use the trebuchet to cover Haven,” he said grimly, “Roderick has an escape route for the people of Haven.”

Elynil stared at Cullen in shock before her expression turned to fear. “I should go,” she stuttered, “I should be with him.” She made for the doors to follow the Herald, but Cullen held her back.

“No, Lady Lavellan, please,” he urged, turning her shoulders to face him. “We need help to move the injured.” She looked around at the number of people on the ground and slowly nodded. Cullen sighed a breath of relief and together, they began lifting the injured and following the strange boy who was holding up the Chancellor.

  
  


 

* * *

 

  
  


It was hard to tell time in a blizzard. Cullen couldn’t tell how much time had past since they left Haven in the rubble and snow. The mountain weather was turbulent and dark, and they had only been able to light fires a few times.

And there was still no sign of the Herald.

Cullen sighed in frustration and rubbed the back of his neck. He felt heavy with guilt, and despite trying, could not seem to find a light of hope in himself.

The light from the fire outside his tent barely shed light inside. He laid back onto his mat and stared up at the stitches in the fabric. He was supposed to sleep now, but even though his body screamed with exhaustion, Cullen couldn’t close his eyes. His boots were still damp from trudging in the snow, looking again for any signs of the Herald in the vain hope that he had followed them.

“Commander?” A soft voice came from outside his tent. He could see a vague silhouette of a woman there. Elynil, he thought. He sat up. “Yes, my lady,” he called out, careful not to disturb the sleeping people around them.

The tent flaps opened and Elynil stepped into his view. Cullen’s heart hurt to see her. Shoulders slumped in defeat, slightly shivering, Elynil looked at him with her large eyes, shadowed from lack of sleep and red from rubbing and crying. Her eyes were still slightly swollen. She had been crying recently, too.

“How is your arm?” He asked weakly. There was a fresh bandage wrapped around the burn.

“Fine,” she whispered, voice hoarse.

She sank to her knees beside him. “I just… I tried sleeping, but I can’t…” she whispered.

Cullen nodded. “I know. I can’t either.”

She rubbed her hands on her knees, trying to warm them. “I should have gone with him,” she croaked.

“If you had gone, my lady, then the Inquisition would be missing many more people,” Cullen said. “You tended half of the wounded here, and they wouldn’t have survived without your care.”

Elynil stared at her knees as she kept rubbing her hands, more and more forcefully. “Ashaanon… I failed, again.. I was supposed to protect him, but I—“ she drew a shaky breath and Cullen saw a tear roll down her cheek.

He shifted closer to her and wiped the tear with his palm.

“My lady,” he murmured, “you did not fail. You saved our people. His effort was not left in vain. Another search goes out at dawn. We will not stop until we find him.”

Elynil clenched her hands and nodded, silent. Her fingers were turning white from cold. Cullen gently took her hands in his.

“Let me see,” he whispered. He cupped her fingers together in his and blew hot breath into them, rubbing her fingertips. She shivered at the hot air, and he paused to pull a fur cloak around her shoulders before taking her hands again. They sat there in silence as he warmed her hands, until she gave a shaky breath and he looked up. Tears were rolling steadily down her face as she wept quietly.

“Elynil…” he whispered, and dropped her hands to wipe tears away. She fell into his open arms and clutched at his tunic. Cullen was at a loss for words,  but he knew it wasn’t what she needed. He had lost enough soldiers and comrades to understand her pain of having survived. He smoothed her hair as she wept, adjusting the cloak so she was covered. Elynil wept until she ran out of tears, her shoulders slumped from exhaustion. She sat up, rubbing her face. Her eyes, though slightly swollen, her shiny with tears, her long lashes glistening. Her swollen lips were deeper and redder than ever. Although it broke Cullen’s heart to see her like this, she was so beautiful that he couldn’t look away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, coughing. Cullen shook his head.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he murmured. The shadows under her eyes were deeper now.

“My lady, you need rest,” he said, shifting out of the way so she could lie down. “Please. If you feel you’ll sleep better with company…” he trailed off as he blushed. “I mean, I wouldn’t— of course— but, that is… I can stay with you until dawn. If you wish,” he added, somewhat deflated after starting his offer so strong.

Elynil looked at the bed for a moment through her red eyes. She nodded, too tired to speak properly. Cullen felt relieved as she curled into the blankets, closing her eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and Cullen smiled sadly as she fell into sleep instantly.

  
  
  


At the first sign of light over the mountains, Cullen set out. Elynil was still sleeping in his bed, furs wrapped tightly around her. She wasn’t shivering anymore. Cullen moves a lock of hair out of her face, letting his fingers trail her ensalin before he stood up. Though he felt it was in vain, he prayed to Andraste that they would find the Herald. The world depended on it. And Elynil… the anguish in her eyes as she cried during the night made Cullen shudder to remember.

He left the tent and found a group of scouts waiting dutifully outside his tent, with Cassandra, Leliana, Dorian, and Iron Bull. A group of the Chargers were standing by the fire, waiting for instruction. A band of Ferelden hunters with their Mabari were waiting by the fire as well.

Cullen looked at Cassandra and Leliana. Even the spymaster looked harrowed, and Cassandra had a blank look plastered on her face— something Cullen recognized from when they had lost the Divine. The Tevinter magister had a tight grip on his staff, and an uncharacteristically serious look.

Cullen watched the puff of steam as he breathed out. Where to even begin…

“Oi, Commander.”

Master Dennet was approaching with the two Harts.

“The other Lavellan told me, at the conclave these two found her. Maybe they can help find the Herald.” He gave the reigns to Cullen who thanked him. This was the best lead they could get.

Cullen handed the reigns of Varoth to Cassandra, who looked at the big creature’s antlers warily. Varoth snorted. Lothan nudged Cullen’s arm and nibbled at his tunic. Cullen pat the Hart’s muzzle.

“Your lady is safe, let her sleep,” he murmured. He wasn’t sure just how much these harts could understand, but they seemed to have the same level of awareness as Mabari. Lothan nudged Cullen’s arm gently again.

“Let’s move out,” Cullen addressed the group. “Comb the mountain pass towards Haven. If the Harts react, follow them. Each group should have a mage with them. If you find the Herald, send a flare to alert the others to return to camp. 1 flare for the Herald, 3 flares for trouble.”

There was a murmur of agreement in the crowd and they scattered from camp.

They looked for hours. The sun was high now. Cullen, with Krem and a group of the chargers, was taking a rest by some boulders as the group kicked snow out of their boots. Lothan was enjoying nuzzles from the Chargers, and Cullen briefly wondered what is was about animals that made soldiers feel more at ease.

Suddenly, Lothan tossed his great head with a loud snort. He stamped the ground lightly with a hoof and gave a low bellow. Krem and Cullen stood up and walked over to him.

“What is it? What did you all do?” Krem asked the Chargers, but they shook their heads.

“We didn’t do nothin’, Krem, dunno what’s wrong with ‘im.”

Cullen took Lothan’s reigns and steadied his head, looking into his eyes.

“What is it, Lothan? What do you know?” He asked quietly.

Lothan pushed Cullen and walked past him, waiting for a moment for Cullen to catch up.

“Let’s go, men,” Cullen said. The Chargers scrambled to get up. Cullen’s heart beat frantically in his chest. Did the hart smell something?

 

Lothan led them through a thick of snowy pines and through a narrow pass. Other than the trudging footsteps and wind through the rocks, the walk was silent, all the soldiers holding their breath. When Lothan let out a low bellow, everyone froze. Then Cullen saw it— a figure laying face down in the snow, a bright green glow emulating from them.

“The Herald!!” He shouted, dropping the reigns as he ran towards him. The mage Charger sent up a flare and rushed forward with him.

The Herald was white as the snow, his red ensalin purple from cold. His lips were blue, and eyes closed. Cullen’s heart sank. He lifted the Herald to put his ear to his chest. Trying to detect any sign of life. A faint pumping of blood and the slightest raise in the Heralds chest as he drew a shallow breath released warmth back into Cullen’s fingers.

“He’s alive,” he sighed.

“Thank the Maker!” Cassandra cried. Her group had reached them. Dorian, Iron Bull, and Leliana were running towards them with their scouts.

Varoth came forward and knelt in the snow next to Cullen, tossing his head. Cullen wasn’t sure how, but he understood. He climbed onto the hart with the Herald and Varoth lifted them up.

“I will get the Herald to a healer. Everyone back to camp!”

Varoth leapt forward, darting through the trees. Cullen barely had time to admire the giant beast’s agility when they made it back to camp. Cullen leapt off his back, winced at the sting in his feet when he landed, and ran to the healer’s tent. People were coming out of their tents, and as he ran past them with the Herald, some gasped, some screamed. The healer immediately went to work warming the Herald.

The tent burst open again and Cullen whirled around. Elynil stood there, mouth open as she stared at the Herald. Cullen took a step forward.

“My lady—“

“Don’t just stand there, da’len, grab me the furs there and the crushed spindleweed!” Snapped the healer. Elynil jolted out of her trance.

“Yes, hahren,” she said, grabbing the pile of furs in the corner and reaching for the glass phial the healer had pointed to.

The healer spoke to Elynil in elven, but judging by the relief that washed over her face, Cullen assumed it was good news.

“He will live?” He asked hesitantly.

The healer grunted. “A little more time in the snow and he wouldn’t. He’s lucky you found him.”

“Lothan— the hart— he found him.” Cullen corrected him. The healer grunted again.

“Of course he did! He’s a proper free marches hart, raised by Dalish, not some dense headed Ferelden farm horse.” The healer fixed Cullen with a shrewd look. “If you’re not going to help, then get out! I have all the hands I need here. If you see that elf mage— the one who knows so much about the Herald’s mark, bring him here.”

Cullen bowed and took a last look at Elynil before he left. She was working swiftly to dress and cover the wounds over the Herald’s body, her jaw clenched tight as she moved from one burn to another. People were gathering outside the tent now, all chattering and staring at Cullen. Varric pushed past the crowd.

“Curly, is it true? You found him?” His eyes were wide, but Cullen could see the shadows under his eyes as well. He nodded, catching his breath.

“The healer has him now. He’s alive, but barely.” Several people knelt and began praying.

“Varric, the others will be back soon. They need food and drink.” The dwarf nodded.  

“Leave it to me, Curly.”

Cullen moved through the crowd and sat beside Josephine, who was watching him with wide, scared eyes.

“He’ll live,” said Cullen as he sat. Josephine let out a long sigh.

“Oh thank goodness.” Her voice shook and she grabbed her own hands to stop them trembling.

It was a tense couple of hours while the crowd waited for any news from the healer’s tent. The only movement was of Solas entering the tent and Elynil rushing out to fetch a bucket of water. The sun fell, and Cullen stood up finally, stiff from sitting in the cold for so long. At that moment, the healer’s tent opened and Elynil stepped out, Solas behind her. She looked over the crowd that waited for her with baited breath.

“He lives.”

The seemed to be a collective sigh of relief from the crowd as people hugged each other, chantry sisters cried, and many more people clasped their hands together in prayer. From over the crowd, Elynil’s eyes found Cullen’s. She smiled a small, weary smile. They moved to the side of the crowd and walked away from the fire.

They walked in comfortable silence to the edge of camp. Where Varoth and Lothan were tied to a post. They greeted Elynil by moving forward and nuzzling her, gently mouthing at her clothing and hair. She chuckled and drew a handful of spindle weed root from her pocket, which they took enthusiastically.

“Spindleweed roots are very sweet, like candy for harts,” she said over her shoulder. Cullen came forward and patted Lothan on the neck.

“They certainly deserve it.” He smiles at the harts. He had grown fond of them at Haven, but he felt an extra surge of appreciation for them now.

“Thank you.” Elynil watched him pet Lothan with a smile. “Not just for finding Ashaanon. For last night… I almost lost myself to despair. Thank you for comforting me.”

Cullen shook his head. “Nothing to thank me for, my lady.”

“Elynil,” she said. Cullen blinked at her and she chuckled.

“We can drop the propriety, don’t you think? Just say ‘Elynil’.”

“Ah.. but I—“ started Cullen.

“You called me that last night,” Elynil said quietly. Cullen flushed as he remembered.

Elynil reached down and took his hand, examining a scar left by a closing wound from Haven.

“It’s healing well,” she muttered to herself, and then looked up at him. Cullen swallowed hard as he tried to keep eye contact, but was conscious of the hot sensation creeping up his neck.

“Elynil,” she repeated softly. “Say it.”

“...Elynil,” he breathed. She smiled, and brought his curled fingers to her mouth, pressing her warm lips against them. Cullen’s heart was hammering away in his chest now, and he was having difficulty breathing.

“So cold,” she murmured. “Get some new gloves from Harrit.” He nodded, too stunned to say anything.

She smiled and let go of his hand, stroked the muzzles of Lothan and Varoth, and began walking back to the fire, where Varric and Josephine were handing out the night’s rations.

Cullen fell back against the post, causing the harts to jump and snort accusingly. He ignored them, trying to steady his rapid heart beat. The closed his eyes and laughed at himself quietly. Elynil Lavellan was going to be the merciless death of him.


	4. Skyhold

Cullen sighed in frustration as he looked over the note from Leliana. More Venatori activity, more soldiers lost, more codes to unscramble.. and his new room had barely been set up a week. He tossed the report back on the table and left the room. Perhaps a walk around Skyhold’s battlements would clear his head. As soon as he stepped out, the crisp, icy breeze hit his face, and Cullen let out a long exhale. Though bitterly cold, the wind from the Frostbacks was perfect to wake him up. Cullen strode slowly around the perimeter of Skyhold, taking in the beauty of the ancient fortress. How lucky they were to have gotten here…

He heard a familiar, melodic laugh and he looked down into the courtyard, silently cursing himself for being so hopeful.  _ Like a young boy with a first love _ , he grumbled. 

Elynil was in the courtyard with Cassandra, and she was laughing at something. Cullen leaned on the stone, curious now to see what Cassandra was doing. He had never seen anyone, save the Herald, act so casually with the Seeker before, but Cassandra seemed to have a soft spot for the Lavellans. Elynil was looking over Cassandra’s shoulder at a book in her hands. She pointed to a passage and whispered something, which made Cassandra snap the book shut, ears turning bright red, but she couldn’t help but laugh. Elynil was almost rolling in the ground now, clutching at her sides. 

Cullen smiled. It was nice to see Elynil laugh openly again. Until a few days ago, she seemed too tired to laugh, only offering polite smiles at Varric’s snide jokes which she usually loved. Haven had taken a toll on her— Cullen had found her weeping silently at the list of names of those they had lost during the battle at Leliana’s desk a week ago. Elynil was quieter to begin with than the Inquisitor, but always just as cheerful. Her sullen demeanor the past few weeks was worrying to Cullen. 

A scout walked up to the two women and Cullen heard him tell Cassandra to meet with Leliana. As Cassandra walked away, Elynil stretched, looking around the walls. She spotted Cullen and raised her hand in greeting, which he returned with a smile. 

“Wait there,” she called to him, and he watched with a growing pace in his heart as she disappeared behind a door. The tower door next to him opened a few moments later and she walked out. 

“Escaping from work?” She teased, tugging the ribbon out of her hair to release it in the wind. Cullen admired the way it tumbled down her shoulders. 

“Attempting,” he admitted with a shrug. She leaned against the stone wall beside him. “And you? You’re leaving to scout soon, yes?” Once they had arrived at Skyhold, Leliana had placed Elynil in charge of a few scout squads of her own. She seemed natural at the leadership, and the Inquisitor reminded him that she had in fact been the leader of the scouting efforts of their clan in the Free Marches. 

Elynil nodded. “At dawn. One of my groups has reported warden activity in the west. I will be following them there to see for myself.” She sighed and made a face. “Desert… horrible, sandy, hot, miserable…” she grumbled. Cullen laughed. 

“Would you like to switch? I have a pile of paperwork that needs doing for Josephine.”

She stuck out her tongue and snorted. “Right. No thank you, Commander, I think I’ll be alright.” 

“Pity, I was hoping someone would accept my offer,” he sighed. “What were you looking at with Cassandra? I’ve never seen her so flustered before. I doubt anyone has.” He added as an afterthought. 

To his surprise, Elynil turned a light pink at the question. “Not telling,” she replied, laughing. He raised his eyebrows and chuckled.  _ Women… _

“It’s nice to see you laugh again,” he said quietly. Elynil smiled at him and looked over at the men hanging an Inquisition banner over the doors of the Great Hall. 

“I feel lighter now,” she replied. “After Haven, I… I admit I felt a little hopeless. I couldn’t believe how many we had lost, how swiftly Corypheus fell on Haven…” she trailed off, shaking her head as though she were trying to block the memory.

“I know,” Cullen murmured. “But we made it. Their sacrifices will not be in vain.” She nodded.

“Erm… Cullen…” she looked sheepishly at him. “I’m sorry… for slapping you. I never apologized for that properly. I lost composure and I won’t do it again.”

He laughed and waved his hand, dismissing her apology. “No, no, you were fully in your right. I should have trusted you. You were absolutely right about our soldiers, as well. As a commander, you’d think I’d know that.”

“Well,” She said, looking relieved at his reaction. “Thank you for looking out, anyway.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked, and he straightened his back to look at her. “With the number we were up against… you could have died.” He hated the idea more than words could say. 

“I… when I saw the red Templar coming up behind you, I panicked. I thought, for a second, that I would lose you— that  _ we _ would…” she corrected herself quickly. She paused, and they were silent for a moment. 

“I couldn’t lose you,” she said, barely above a whisper— so quiet that Cullen wasn’t sure if he had heard correctly. He stared at her in silence, unsure of how to ask for her to say it again. Before he could, Elynil swiveled around on her heel and start walking back to the tower door. 

“I have to get ready to leave,” she said over her shoulder, “don’t leave your paperwork too late, or Josephine will have your head.” 

“Elynil!” He called, but the door had already shut behind her. Cullen groaned as he leaned against the stone wall. He could see Jim with a report, walking towards him and Cullen grumbled as he got up to meet him.  _ Damn you fool, you stuttering dolt! Probably misheard… but you should have told her… damn! _

Jim hesitantly offered the report as he took in his commander’s expression. 

_ To the West…  _ Cullen took a look through, signed the parchment, and sent Jim in his way.  _ I won’t be seeing her for a while… _

He bit his lip and trudged back to his office.

 

Just before dawn, Cullen made his way to the stables. Frost clung to his boots as he walked through the overgrown grass. As he thought, Elynil was there, preparing her saddle for travel. She looked up at the sound of his footsteps, surprised to see him.

“Cullen!” She whispered, careful not to wake Blackwall and Master Dennet in the barn. “What are you—“

“I came to give you this,” He whispered back, pushing a small bundle in her hands. “For your trip.”

She unwrapped the cloth curiously, finding a phial with a light blue liquid. 

“A special potion I had requested from Adan,” he explained. “Keeps your energy even in the miserable, sandy, hot desert,” he teased. He reached out let Lothan nuzzle his hand. “Safe for horses and harts, too.”

Her face broke into a beautiful smile, and Cullen felt his heart swoop. 

“Oh, Cullen… thank you,” she whispered, tucking the phial into her leather pouch. 

“Be safe,” he pleaded. She nodded and took his hand in hers.

“You too,” she said. She gave his hand a squeeze which he returned. “I—“

“Lady Lavellan, we are ready to leave at your order,” a scout called as she walked over. Elynil let go of Cullen’s hand and hurriedly loaded the last bag onto her saddle. 

“We’ll go now,” she replied, and the scout returned to the gate where the rest of her crew waited. Cullen took a step back as Elynil jumped up onto Lothan’s saddle. Once she was seated, she looked down at him, a strange look on her face.

“Cullen, I—… I’ll see you soon,” she said, reaching her hand to him. He took her fingers and squeezed them gently.

“Go,” he murmured, and watched as she trotted away to the gate, turned, and disappeared from sight.

He sighed, heart still fluttering, and looked at his fingers as though trying to memorize the feeling of her touch. 

“Should’ve told her then, Commander.” A gruff voice said through the silence, and Blackwall came out of the barn to the bucket of water next to the stables, splashing his face to wake himself.

Cullen sighed again. “She’s a scout captain,” he said over the splashing. “Her crew needs her more.”

Blackwall gave a grunt as Cullen walked away. The sun was starting to reach the tops of the stone towers now. He had much to do.


	5. Adamant

Two months passed and the Inquisition prepared it’s attack on the wardens of Adamant. Everyday was busy for Cullen, from dawn to dusk he organized the troops and ensured the collection of siege equipment for their army. The one thing he looked forward to were the reports coming in from the West. Elynil was stationed there now, keeping a watch on the fortress, and usually sent word twice a week of updates on the number of wardens, changes in demeanor, signs of venatori and red Templars. Her reports were thorough, which Leliana praised, but more importantly for Cullen, it meant that she was alive and well. 

He was making rounds on the training grounds when another report arrived.

“Commander! Parcel for you, ser,” the scout handed him a small but heavy package.  _ Odd, she never sends anything other than notes, and not to me, but to Leliana. _

Cullen took the package to his table, in case it was something valuable to be studied. As soon as he ripped the parchment open, he jumped up, swearing. Sand poured out of the envelope, covering notes on his desk and scattering as he stood. Under the sand, a piece of paper with Elynil’s scrawling letters stuck out and Cullen grabbed it, still grumbling and confused. 

_ just to let you know how I’m doing _

Cullen threw his head back and laughed at the absurdity of the prank. Elynil must truly hate the desert for her to take a trick out of Sera’s book. Cullen was still chuckling as he swept the remaining sand off of his reports an hour later.

  
  


The day to approach Adamant came swiftly. The troops moved out, the Inquisitor and his party at the front lines. Cullen alternated between horseback and wagon as he went over battle plans with lieutenants. During their stops for camp, Cullen took out the note with Elynil’s snarky comment and read it again, over and over. He smiled as he imagined her filling a parchment envelope with sand, like a naughty child. 

“Looking forward to seeing her again?”

Cullen shoved the paper back into his cloak and Varric laughed. 

“Andraste preserve me, that was so sweet I may vomit,” he said.

Cullen tried to give him a stern look but was foiled by his blushing face. Varric chuckled. 

“Don’t worry, Curly, I won’t tell,” he said. “Not that I’d have to,” he added, smirking.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Cullen grumbled. 

“Ha! Curly, from the day she regained consciousness you were so far gone that we’d have to send an entire expedition to get you back,” Varric chuckled as he polished Bianca. “But hey, at least it’s not a lost cause.” He nodded at the note Cullen had buried in his cloak. 

Cullen sighed. “Aren’t I?” He wondered out loud. He certainly felt like it when he lost track of thoughts anytime she smiled. 

“Not in my book,” Varric answered, dipping his cloth in oil again. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. You ain’t lost, curly, you just need a compass.”

  
  
  


At last they reached the forward camp near Adamant. Cullen went to work positioning the soldiers and ammunition, going over last minute details with the Inquisitor and his lieutenants. The soldiers were eating a somber meal before their attack at dawn, and Cullen stood at the edge of camp, looking at the few lights flickering in the distance at the fortress. 

“Did you get my note?”

Cullen smiled as he turned to face her. In two months, she had barely changed. A few shades tanner than before, but Elynil was still the same. 

“I did, and so did my desk, my floor, and all my other reports,” he said, and she laughed mischievously. 

“Perfect. I just wanted to let you know what you were missing,” she said, shrugging innocently.

“Ah, yes, I see,” he said sarcastically, sweeping his arm to gesture at the sand around them. “I’ve missed the jewel of Thedas.” 

They laughed together, falling silent as they gazed at Adamant.

“It’s so beautiful,” Elynil said, a sad look in her eyes. 

“It will be a hard fight,” he warned her, and she nodded. 

“My scouts will stay with you,” she said. “I will stay with Ashaanon during the battle.”

Cullen figured as much. “Be careful,” he said, lowering his voice. He didn’t want the soldiers to hear and think the scout captain was to be coddled. 

Elynil gave him a small smile. “I always am,” she replied. “You too,” she added, and he smiled back. 

She hesitated before saying, “I heard from Ashaanon… About your decision to stop taking lyrium.”

“Ah,” Cullen said. He felt suddenly uncomfortable. What was she thinking? 

“I think it’s very brave,” she said, “and I respect you for making that decision.”

“I— thank you,” He said. Was that all?

“Will you be able to fight?” She asked, and he could feel her eyes studying him closely. 

“Yes,” he replied immediately. He didn’t want her to think he was unfit for battle because of this. “I’m perfectly fine now. As long as I get rest,” he added truthfully. 

She nodded. “Alright.” They fell silent again for a few minutes. 

“I expect a full report when this is over,” he said, t]desperate to break the silence.

“Is that an order, Commander?” She asked. He turned to look at her. The moonlight glistened on her black hair, and her grey eyes seemed to glow in the reflection of the light. 

“Yes,” He said, fighting the urge to bring her closer, to embrace her for the whole army to see. “Promise me. I need that report.”

She nodded and crossed a fist over her chest in salute. “Understood.”

“Good,” he murmured, and brushed the hair out of her face before he could stop himself. He quickly lowered his hand, and she turned to return to camp. 

“Watch your back, Cullen,” she called over her shoulder. “Don't make me come back to cover it.”

Cullen watched her until she disappeared behind the tents, and he sighed. Varric was right. He was too far gone. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


The tavern was roudy as soldiers sang and drank to their victory. Varric started a game of Wicked Grace, which many people left as soon as Josephine was dealt in. Sera and Blackwall kept a crowd cheering as they finished one mug after another in a drunken race. Cassandra and Leliana sat at a table, watching the drunken company around them with amused looks on their faces. The Inquisitor was challenging every drunk Charger to an arm wrestle, with Dorian behind him massaging his shoulders and taunting the mercenaries.

Through all of the drunken chaos, Elynil found Cullen leaning on the second floor banister, laughing at the antics. She dodged a stumbling Sutherland as she made her way to him, a drink in each hand. He took his gladly and knocked their mugs together. 

Elynil leaned in. “To your excellent siege of a historical monument, Commander,” she said loudly, over the commotion. He grinned. 

“To your next step to godhood as you survived the Fade,” he replied. She gasped in feigned offense. 

“Heresy!!!” She shouted, and took a long drink. He laughed and followed suit. 

“Here,” she said, and handed him two dark green leaves. “Chew on these. It’ll help with the grogginess in the morning.”

Cullen popped the leaves in his mouth and was pleasantly surprised to find that they were quite sweet, bursting with juices as he chewed. Elynil grinned at his reaction.

“Ten silvers says Josephine will actually lose tonight,” said Elynil, pointing down at the Wicked Grace table, where Solas had just joined. 

“Against Solas?” Cullen scoffed. “He only just learned. I’ll see that bet.”

Elynil shrugged. “Don’t underestimate him, I think he has spirits tell him when to call,” she said. 

 

The night carried on, and over the next few hours, the drunk Inquisitor challenged both Cullen and Elynil to an arm wrestle (Elynil won to a thunderous cheer from the onlookers), Solas did indeed win a round to Josephine (Cullen begrudgingly tossed Elynil ten silvers, which she happily pocketed) and Sera fell asleep under a table (while tying a passed out Blackwall’s boot laces together) until eventually the tavern slowly emptied out and Skyhold was quiet once again. Cullen and Elynil had moved to a corner table, where, though slightly tipsy, they had spent the last couple of hours talking animatedly about everything from the intelligence of Mabari hounds and harts to their childhoods in the wilds of the Free Marches and the small Ferelden village of Honnleath. They now sat in a comfortable silence, Cullen watching as Elynil etched an elven pattern onto the wood table with a small knife. It was a letter opener more than anything, just a keepsake of her clan, Elynil explained when she took it out. It was a very small, dull blade, but Cullen admired the craftsmanship that went into the Iron bark handle. The blade was made of bloodstone, like her twin blades, and reflected the room around it like a bloody mirror. He watched it glint as she carved lazily into the wood.

Cullen took another drink as his eyes fell on Elynil. He felt a warm fluttering in his chest, happy that he was able to sit with her. The fear he had felt when he saw her disappear in the flash of green light was melted away now. He remembered seeing her plummet from the crumbling stone, reaching for the Inquisitor. Cullen ran towards them, knowing that he wouldn’t reach her in time, but maybe he could… and then, a burst of green light, and he watched in horror as Elynil, along with the Inquisitor, Dorian, Hawke, Stroud, Bull, and Cassandra were all swallowed by the light, and disappeared. Cullen fell to his knees and heard himself scream out, as if somehow, his voice would them and she would be brought back to him. And she did come back. The light opened up once more and spat them back out. Cullen had dropped his sword and ran to her as she stumbled out of the fade with the others. He had to make sure, he had to touch her, make sure she was really back. She reached up and touched his face with her palm.  _ I’m here, _ she said, eyes wide as she looked into his.  _ I’m here, Cullen. _

  
  


“When you went into the fade at  Adamant…” he said, and she looked up at him. 

Cullen shifted forward. “I was… scared,” he said. The alcohol was making him brave enough to keep talking. “I thought you were gone. I didn’t think it was possible for you to come back. I…” his hand inched slowly towards hers on the table, scared she might move away, but Elynil remained still. Cullen wrapped his fingers gently around hers. 

“I thought I lost you,” He said, voice barely above a whisper. He glanced at her face. It was an expression he couldn’t read, and she was looking at their hands. She slowly shifted her hand to interlace her fingers with his.

“I promised you, didn’t I?” She answered softly. “I had to make my report.”

Cullen laughed nervously and licked his lips before continuing.

“That day on the battlements, before you left for the Western Approach…” He said slowly. “You said… you said,  _ you couldn’t lose me _ .” His heart rate was picking up now, thumping against his chest. “Did you mean it?” He watched her for any sign of reaction, but she stared at their hands on the table. 

“Did you mean it?” He asked again, heart hammering in his ears, voice nearly catching in his throat.

Elynil was quiet. The flickering of the fireplace danced across her face. 

“Yes,” she said finally, and Cullen let out the breath he had been holding. 

“Elynil,” He said, swallowing hard. His throat was so dry all of a sudden. “Elynil, I feel the same. I—“

“No!” She cried, and twisted away, out of his grip, and stood up. “Wait, Cullen, no, please, I—“ she looked up at him and his heart sunk. Her eyes were watering with tears and she bit her lip nervously.

“I can’t do this, Cullen,” her voice cracked, “I can’t do this, knowing that I can’t stay… it’s too painful—“

“What do you mean, you can’t stay?” He asked, standing and stepping towards her, but she only backed away. His stomach was twisting into knots. Blood was rushing through his ears. He wanted to yell, to cry, but he felt limp.  _ She’s leaving. _

“Of course you can stay.” He hated how his voice sounded— begging, pathetic. “Elynil, that’s all I want—“ but she was shaking her head. 

“No, no, I can’t, you know I can’t,” she said, and tears rolled down her cheek. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, turned, and ran down the stairs and out of the tavern door. 

Cullen stood there, willing his whole body to stay together. He felt like his heart had been ripped open, stabbed, left for dead. Her ironbark dagger lay forgotten on the table. He grabbed it as he swore under his breath and went down the stairs to follow her. 

“Let her cool off, Chief,” Iron Bull’s voice called out to him from the corner. Cullen turned around. The Iron Bull was sitting in his chair with his legs propped up on a stool, sipping on an ale. Krem sat beside him, but got up, offering Cullen his chair. 

“You heard…?” Cullen asked. Great. The whole inquisition would know of his rejection by the morning.

Bull shrugged. “Not really. Enough to put pieces together, and I saw her face when she was running out of here.” He nodded to the chair beside him, and Cullen sighed, dragging himself over to sit. 

Krem came back with a large ale which he put in front of Cullen, who took it glumly. 

“She rejected me,” he said after a large gulp. “Maker, I am such a fool…”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Bull asked, and he fixed his good eye on Cullen. “I mean, yeah to the second part, but  _ rejected _ you? I thought you were good at reading battlefields.” He snorted.

Cullen looked up at him, confused. “I— what?”

Bull’s eyebrows furrowed and he gave an agitated sigh. “She ran out because she was overwhelmed. Ugh.  _ This _ is why Qunari don’t  _ make love _ .” He spat the word. 

Cullen turned red. “What? No, we haven’t—“

“Same shit,” Bull said, rolling his eye. “Look,” he leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table. “You saw her face. You’ve seen the way she looks at you. I saw you at the camp after Haven,” he cocked an eyebrow. “That ain’t nothing, chief.”

“But that was before she knew about…”

“The lyrium?” Bull snorted again. “You really think Elynil gives two shits about that?”

Cullen was getting frustrated at being cut off. “Then why did she say—“

“She’s an  _ elf, _ pretty boy.” Bull took a swig of ale. “How do you think that makes her feel? Have you even thought about it? Hm? A Dalish elf, pining after the Inquisition’s  _ human _ Commander? You humans always gotta make it about yourselves, makes my horns hurt,” he sat back in his chair and drank. 

Cullen gaped at him. “But… I’ve never said anything about—“

“Does it matter?” Iron bull threw his hand up, exasperated. “Like I said, this isn’t about  _ you _ . It’s about her. Her being and elf and you being a pretty human boy with  _ power _ .” He slammed his drink down on the table and leaned in close to Cullen. “So what are you gonna do about it, huh? Are you gonna confess your heart out to her, make her happy, only to let her get ripped away from you when  _ this _ —“ he gestured to the tavern, and the Inquisition banner behind them, “—is over? When you move onto bigger things in your human world, where they won’t let her in? And how will she feel then?” 

Cullen was silent, staring at the mug in his hands. Is that really what Elynil was thinking? And he hadn’t given it a moment’s consideration. He hadn’t thought about how she was moving through the world, away from her clan, surrounded by humans that scorned her just for her race. He felt his stomach tighten. He was ashamed of himself. Bull was right— he was only thinking about himself and how  _ he  _ felt, never taking a moment to pause and think about Elynil’s life. 

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” he said, and Bull snorted, disbelieving. “I won’t,” Cullen said to him. “I have power. I’m human, I have title. The least I can do is use it to keep her by my side. I don’t care about any of it— I just want her. I would throw it all way for her if I had to.” He was surprised with himself that he actually felt this way. He couldn’t bear to lose her— the very thought was agonizing. 

Bull grunted and lifted his drink again. “Well, it’s better. As long as you can put those nice words to action. But if that’s what you want, Chief, you’d better make it happen. If she doesn’t go back to her clan,” he smacked his lips after he drained his mug, smirking, “she’d make a hell of a Charger.”


	6. Leaving

The next few days after the celebrations for Adamant were a blur of reports, soldiers and scouts returning to Skyhold, and preparations for the next steps. Cullen was exhausted from pouring over reports, holding meetings with Grey Wardens, Leliana, and the Inquisitor. He hadn’t properly slept for three days now… each time he closed his eyes to rest, her tearful face and heartbreaking words pierced his mind, and Cullen would get up to distract himself with work once more. He could only sleep now if he fell into it, usually slumped over his desk. 

They hadn’t talked since that night in the tavern. Every time he thought about it, Cullen’s chest tightened. Elynil was avoiding him. He knew it. He’d seen her flitting about Skyhold, usually at night, running to and from Leliana’s tower. No matter how busy she was, unless she was away on mission, Elynil would have come to his office by now. She usually hand delivered messages at least once a day while she remained at Skyhold, but for the past few days he had only gotten messengers in her stead. Cullen glowered at the thought. It wasn’t like her to avoid something just because the situation was complex. 

But, then again, what had he done? He hadn’t sought her out, hadn’t called out to her when he saw her.  _ You’re a coward, Cullen.  _ He bit his lip angrily, staring but not reading the report in his hand. He was too scared to say anything, unsure what to even say to her. 

 

Cullen sighed and stood up, stretching his legs. He leaned against the table as he waved slightly.  _ Really need more sleep _ .

He walked out of his room and out onto the bridge connecting the outer walls of Skyhold to the main hall. The cool mountain air hit him as he stepped out, and Cullen filled his lungs with fresh air. The wind cooled the light sweat on his neck and he wiped it away, sighing again. He knew he needed more sleep, more rest… his feet felt heavy, his throat constantly parched… his shoulders ached even though it had been a full day since he last wore his armor. The sound of the gate opening caught his attention and he looked down. He could see a band of dwarves coming in, cloaked in the darkness but for the torches they held flickering over their clothes. He watched a cargo wagon follow through the gates and move over the courtyard. The thick canvas flapped lightly in the wind, and for a moment Cullen saw a flash of blue shine from within.  _ Lyrium.  _

Cullen’s throat suddenly felt dry and he gulped slowly, looking away. His hands shook lightly and he balled them into fists and he trudged to the main hall, trying to ignore the aches in his body as he moved. His exhaustion wasn’t just due to lack of sleep, and Cullen knew this…

 

He opened the door and Solas looked up, fixing him with his large pale eyes. Cullen nodded in greeting, but Solas glanced at his clenched jaw. He stood up and closed the book he was reading. 

“Commander,” his smooth voice echoed up the chamber. 

“As you were, Solas,” Cullen raised his hand. “I apologize for barging in like this, it’s just… well,” he cleared his throat. “I needed a drink,” he said, faltering. He didn’t feel like admitting to the elf whom he barely knew that he didn’t feel strong enough to walk across the entire courtyard as he usually did. 

Solas shook his head. “No, Commander, I take no offense,” he said, “I merely thought you had come to see the Inquisitor and Lady Lavellan about the news. I believe she is getting ready to leave tonight.” He sat back down. 

Cullen stopped and looked at him. “The news? Leaving?” He repeated.

Solas raised his eyebrows. “Have you not— oh. Forgive me, I assumed Lady Lavellan had already… they are with the Ambassador, if you wish to hear from them yourself.”

Cullen was already moving towards the door. He threw it open, ignoring Varric‘s cry of “Andraste’s tits, Curly!” as it banged, and sped to Josephine’s quarters. He burst through the doors, causing everyone to jump and look up at him. Leliana, and Josephine were at her desk, evidently just talking as Cullen ran in, and the Inquisitor was seated by the fire, Dorian behind him with a bracing hand on his shoulder. 

“Cullen!” Said Josephine. She looked surprised at his slightly frantic appearance. “What are you—“

“What happened?” He interrupted. He took The Inquisitor’s face, etched with worry as he stared at the fire. 

Josephine cleared her throat after waiting for the Inquisitor to speak up. “Clan Lavellan has been attacked by humans, just outside of Wycombe, Cullen.” 

Leliana straightened her back and tossed the report on the desk. “Of course, we can’t send the Inquisitor so far to the Free Marches right now, but Lady Lavellan was insistent on going to aid the clan. She left only a few moments ago.”

_ She left. _ Cullen’s head was reeling. “She went alone to—“ he started angrily. 

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Leliana’s glare pierced him and he shut his mouth, clenching his jaw. “She has her squadron with her, and I’ve sent for aid to meet her there as well.” 

Cullen nodded. The room fell silent again, and the crackling of the fireplace filled the stone walls. Leliana and Josephine began talking in low voices once more. Cullen’s mind was racing. The clan had been attacked? Why? Elynil had left, without even saying a word to him. Cullen’s chest hurt to think about it. A few days ago, would she have told him? He wanted to run after her, fight by her side, but he knew he couldn’t. 

“Come, now,” Dorian murmured to the Inquisitor, and he stood up. Dorian squeezed the Inquisitor’s shoulder as they walked towards the door. Cullen followed them out and they turned to head to the Inquisitor’s chambers. Cullen turned to leave the hall.

“Cullen.” He turned around again. The Inquisitor walked up to him. 

“Yes, Inquisitor?”

“I just wanted you to know. I talked to Elynil before she left. Depending on what happens at Wycombe…” his large grey eyes met Cullen’s. His expression was confusing— Cullen couldn’t tell what it was. Pity? Worry? “I cannot return to the clan if something happens to our Keeper, even though I am her First. If something should happen, if the clan needs a leader… Elynil will stay in my stead.”

Cullen felt his throat tighten and he blinked slowly, trying to register what the Inquisitor was telling him. “She won’t come back?” He said, voice barely coming out in a hoarse whisper. 

The Inquisitor cast his eyes down, nodding. “I’m sorry. I know—- I know how much you cared for her,” he whispered. “And she as well. I’m sorry,” he repeated. 

Cullen couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. His blood rushed through his ears, deafening. Dorian pulled the Inquisitor away, and Cullen stood, staring at them as they walked away. He felt a wave of panic welling up inside of him, and felt the urge to scream. Cullen shoved his way through the side door, stumbling into the empty garden, bathed in moonlight.

_ He remembered when Elynil had shown him the rare herb garden she was planting with the healers, bringing back seeds from her missions. Her face lit up as she told him which plants were used for what tonic, what antidote, what poison. She was so happy that the elven healer from Redcliffe had joined them in Skyhold, and so happy she could help. ‘Most of the humans I met in the Free Marches hated us before they even talked to us. I knew not all humans were like that,’ she grinned at Cullen and handed him a blue, knotted stem, gesturing for him to smell the fresh, minty bark, ‘but it's nice to be able to really change minds now that we’re here.’ You never had to change mine. He thought she wouldn’t hear, but she did. ‘I know,’ she said, just as softly. _

The statue of Andraste towered in the moonlight, a wreath of crystal grace flowering on her head.

_ Elynil had found him here, alone one night, praying for those who had fallen at Haven. ‘I don’t believe in there being one maker,’ she said, ‘but I believe in the kindness and guidance Andraste brought to others. I believe in the power your faith has on the people around you.’ She knelt by Cullen’s side and said something in Elven. What did she say? ‘A request,’ she said, smiling at him and taking his hand gently. She placed a bud if a crystal grace in his palm and closed his fingers around it, wrapping his fist in her warm fingers briefly before letting go. ‘To keep her faithful safe as much as she can. To protect those I love who follow her.’ Their eyes met and Cullen’s heart quickened. He placed the bud as an offering at Andraste’s feet. Do you think Andraste knew Elven? She laughed and shrugged. ‘She doesn’t have to know elven to know what I asked of her. Love exists across languages, across ages. Spirits don’t need language to know what you want. If hers still exists, she will understand.’ _

Cullen stumbled into the small room, a smaller statue of Andraste in the center, the only light from the dwindling candles at her feet. He collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his hands. His stomach in knots, his chest aching, Cullen wept, for the first time in years. He crawled before Andraste, tears soaking the ground before her. He couldn’t do anything to help Elynil now— she had slipped away from him. He was the Inquisition’s Commander… but he felt so powerless, so bare. As vulnerable as the frightened farm boy from Honnleath in his first fight.  _ Maker, Andraste, Mythal, anyone, please. Protect her. Keep her safe. Guide her, as she guided me so many times.  _

He wept until his tears ran dry. He prayed until he could no longer form words. The first light crept over the mountains and the sisters slowly came to gather in the garden. Cullen splashed water over his face, erasing evidence of his fatigue and heart break as much as he could, before stepping out into the grounds where he was Commander once again. 


	7. Elves of Wycombe

Sparse notes came from Wycombe over the next few weeks. Elynil, along with Leliana’s scouts, seem to have gotten the elves out of reach of the bandits and had begun investigating the city. News of disease reached them, and the notes from Elynil were shorter and shorter, her hand hurried and scrawling. Cullen leaned over her latest report at the War table, resting his arms on the wood for support. His body ached— he could barely stand under the weight of his armor, but he kept it on out of stubborn pride. He didn’t want to seem slacking in front of the soldiers by opting for his lighter cloak everyday. His throat was dry, no matter how much he drank, and Cullen shoved the thoughts of cool, slick blue liquid away as far as he could. 

He read over her last note again, squinting at the messy ink. It was delivered four days ago. 

_ Red lyrium in the noble houses, source of the disease. Venatori. _

_ City elves fleeing to our camps to warn us and for refuge. Tension growing.  _

_ Many humans of the city have joined after showing red lyrium.  _

 

Something dark red stained the parchment in the corner, smudged off the edge. Cullen prayed it was not her blood. He couldn’t help the flashes in his mind of the fighting in Wycombe, imagining Elynil bloodied in the streets of a human city…. 

Cullen slammed his fist on the table out of frustration to distract himself from the image. The dull noise echoed off the cold walls. He wanted so desperately to go to her. He needed to see her, make sure she was safe. A murmur in his chest also reminded him of the Inquisitor’s words after she had left. 

_ Come back _ . Though he prayed fervently everyday, Cullen felt helpless. The Keeper was alive still… but would she stay with her clan after this? Anyone would. Cullen snorted bitterly at his own selfish thoughts. He would keep the woman he loved away from her clan, just for his own wants? Bull was right— this shouldn’t be about him. 

The heavy doors of the War Room creaked and sighed open, and the Inquisitor stepped in, looking around to find Cullen. Cullen made to stand straight, but the elf waved his hand dismissively. 

“I thought I’d find you here,” he said as the door swung shut behind him. He glanced down at Elynil’s note under Cullen’s hand. Cullen shoved the note away along with some other parchment, trying to seem casual in his shuffling of them. 

“Just going over some notes, Inquisitor,” he said hoarsely, clearing his throat.

“Right,” replied the Inquisitor, though he didn’t sound convinced. He watched Cullen as he wiped his brow. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Cullen replied automatically. The Inquisitor pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. Cullen sighed. 

“I’m… just tired, Inquisitor. I had a few reports come in late last night that kept me from sleeping properly.” It wasn’t a lie, but Cullen decided not to tell the Inquisitor that he had actually not been sleeping for the past four days, since the last note came in from Wycombe. 

“Have you taken it?” The Inquisitor asked. Always straight to the point.

“No,” Cullen said. The Inquisitor looked into his eyes for a moment, then nodded, looking satisfied that Cullen was telling the truth. 

“Good. You can do this, Cullen.”

Cullen looked down at the strewn parchment. He wasn’t so sure if he could. His knees felt weak, his face clammy. Every day was harder to get up from his desk.

“She sent a note,” The Inquisitor said softly. Cullen looked up so quickly that he felt dizzy. The Inquisitor handed his a worn piece of parchment. Cullen noticed immediately Elynil’s writing— steadier than the last note, much more legible. He took it and read it three times before slowing down to take in the words.

 

_ We brought the Dalish forces into the city, and joined with the resistance group of the civilians there, lead by the elves of Wycombe. We struck at night at Duke Antoine, while Inquisition scouts found the red lyrium supplies in the city wells. Fighting was short but brutal. Duke Antoine is dead, as well as his personal retinue. Venatori agents were found and killed. Many of the nobles have fled. They have been trying to spread the word that the elven uprising killed their ruler. In the city, Clan Lavellan are seen as heroes, both by elves and shems. They remain here now. _

 

Cullen turned the note over to read a note written in a different hand— slanted and taller than Elynil’s. 

 

_ Da’len, _

_ Thanks to the efforts of your Inquisition, we are safe now within the city of Wycombe. I thank you for sending Elynil to us. Our scouts were much more comfortable to fight alongside the Inquisition with her leading them. But I fear for the city elves here. The other cities of the Free Marches listen to the words of the nobles, who blame the Duke’s death on the elves of Wycombe. I would have the clan flee, but that would leave the city elves to be killed for their efforts. We need a safe passage.  _

 

Cullen looked up from the letter at the Inquisitor, who was watching him closely. Cullen wasn’t sure how to feel— he was relieved that Elynil was alive. He scanned his eyes over her handwriting once more. But they were not safe yet. He cleared his throat. 

“I will send troops of the Inquisition to protect the city. We can send an ambassador to reason with the leaders of the Free Marches as well. I will make arrangements immediately.” He walked to the door with Elynil, as as they passed through the hall, he felt some strength return to his legs. He had something to do now, something to concentrate on other than his fatigue. Although he could not go, he could still help Elynil. 

  
  


Word reached Cullen a week later that the Inquisition forces had successfully protected the elves at Wycombe, and that the rest of the Free Marches had backed down from attacking the city. Though a group of Inquisition soldiers remained, the rest of the scouts would be reporting back to Skyhold. Cullen wiped sweat from his brow, despite the cool wind, as he watched the recruits being trained. The returning scouts and soldiers should be back by today, tomorrow at the latest. Cullen’s chest tightened with dread as he wondered if Elynil would be among them. There was no note about whether she would stay with the clan or not, and Cullen’s mind had been running wild since he saw the last report. 

He shrugged and rolled his tense shoulders, aching under the weight of his armor. He spied Cassandra walking towards him and he quickly ducked behind a tent, pretending to call after a scout. He didn’t need Cassandra to see him like this and start nagging about his decision to quit Lyrium. Cullen was exhausted already without the lecture, although he knew the Seeker meant well.

He leaned against a post and sighed. The sun was already high above them, and he was growing impatient. Where were the returning scouts?

“Cullen!”  _ Shit. _ He turned around to see Cassandra stepping towards him. “I called out to you, but you didn’t hear me,” she said, studying him. 

“I apologize,” Cullen said sheepishly. “I, er… I was distracted, Jim came to me with a report.” Cassandra snorted and raised her eyebrows.

“You needed something?” Cullen quickly changed the subject. 

“Not me. I think you need some rest. That is not why I came to you, however,” she nodded her head in the direction of the main hall. “Elynil is back.”

Cullen felt as though his heart slowed rapidly as he turned to face the direction Cassandra had gestured. Walking up the stairs and disappearing by the large double doors, he saw a glint of blood red blades, her onyx armor almost green in the sun, and her long black hair whip past the doors. He looked back at Cassandra, who was watching his gaping expression with a small smile.

“Go,” she said, quietly. “I will take your place here.”

Cullen nodded. He couldn’t speak— his heart was now drumming furiously against his chest. He clapped Cassandra on her shoulder in thanks and ran to the hall, ignoring the screaming pain in his legs and shoulders.


	8. Withdrawal

Cullen leaned his shoulder against the cold stone walls in front of the doors of the War Room and pressed his temple against it, drawing a shaky breath. In his haste to get to the meeting he found himself slightly dizzy and out of breath when he got there. He wiped the light sheen of sweat from his brow and recollected himself before pushing through the double doors. Josephine and The Inquisitor we’re speaking at one end of the table, and at the other, studying the map and speaking in low voices, were Leliana and Elynil. 

Cullen felt a rush of release flow through his chest when his eyes landed on her.  _ She came back. She’s really here. _

Elynil looked up, loose long hair brushing the map. She had a long scratch on her cheek, but other than Cullen could see no signs of injury. Her grey eyes met Cullen’s.  _ She’s back.  _ Their eyes locked for a brief moment, an unreadable expression across her face as she took in the sight of him. The Josephine called for her attention, and the expression was gone. 

Through the meeting, Cullen lightly braced himself on the table, trying to seem casual and not that he was in a great deal of pain and fatigue from standing still. Elynil debriefed what had occurred at Wycombe, but Cullen didn’t really hear. Nothing mattered as much as the fact that she was alive, and back at Skyhold. She hadn’t stayed with her clan, like the Herald had suggested. She came back to the Inquisition…  _ to me.  _ He bit his lip at his selfish thought.  _ She left her clan, her family, to help the Inquisitor. You fool. You selfish fool.  _ Cullen shifted his weight and gripped the table to keep from swaying over. He could feel a cold sweat roll down the back of his neck, despite the frigid temperature of the room, and swiped at his damp face again. The armor he wore everyday was suddenly feeling several pounds heavier than usual, and all he could focus on now was getting to his office and taking it off. 

He looked around the room to see if they were at a sufficient breaking point in the discussion. Josephine and Leliana were deep in discussion with the Inquisitor over the map of Orlais, but Elynil was staring directly at him. Cullen felt her stare bore through him as she narrowed her eyes slightly. He wiped his neck in agitation and averted his eyes. 

Elynil cleared her throat, and everyone looked up at her. She smiled apologetically and leaned on the table gingerly. 

“I apologize for interrupting. Could we continue discussions in the morning? Lady Montiliyet, Sister Leliana, I will be happy to discuss further actions with our clan after I get some rest.”

Josephine gasped. “Oh, my goodness, Lady Lavellan! Of course, I apologize for not taking into consideration—but of course, you must be exhausted after your travels. Yes, yes, this can certainly wait until morning. Please, get some rest.” She shuffled her parchments together and capped her bottle of ink. Leliana agreed, mentioning a scout she had to meet with anyway. As they turned away, the Inquisitor gave a quizzical look at Elynil, but she simply nodded at Cullen, who was almost running out of the door. 

 

Cullen startled as he opened the door to his office when he saw Elynil standing at his desk, reading a report he had written earlier in the morning. 

“Elynil,” he faltered as she strode up and locked the door behind him. 

“Cullen...” she looked at him, worry etched into her smooth features. She pointed to his chair. “Sit down.”

He gladly complied, sinking into the chair but trying to keep his back straight. He closed his eyes as his feet sighed under him, thirsty for relief. He opened his eyes when he felt a cloth on his face, and his heart painfully skipped a beat when he took in Elynil bent over him, wiping his face with a small handkerchief. Her eyebrows were knit together in worry.

“You’re ill?” She murmured. Her soft, low voice was soothing to Cullen’s hypersensitive ears. He swallowed hard at the dryness in his throat.

“Lyrium…” he replied hoarsely. Her expression darkened and lips pursed. She gently smoothed his hair back. He drank the cool water she offered and sat with his eyes closed for several minutes before he spoke again.

“In Ferelden’s Circle…” he sighed, “it was taken over by abominations. The Templars— my  _ friends  _ — were slaughtered.” His voice shook and he closed his eyes at the painful memory. “I was… tortured.” He felt Elynil’s hands stiffen in his hair.

“They tried to… break my mind. I—  _ how _ can you be the same person after that?” He asked his hands bitterly. “Still, I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight Commander, and for what? Her fear of mages ended in madness.” His voice grew with his agitation and Elynil’s hands dropped to his shoulders, firm, in case he tried to stand. But for all of his rage, Cullen was too weak to stand now. 

“Kirkwall’s Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets. Can’t you see why I would have nothing to do with that life?” 

“Cullen—“ she started, but he interrupted her. He couldn’t take any sympathy, not for this,

“Don’t,” He said, raising his hands to stop her, “you should be questioning what I’ve done.” She sighed and leaned against the table.

“I thought this would be better— that I could regain some control over my life but these  _ thoughts _ , they won’t leave me.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose as a sharp pain shot through his temple. The pain only made him angrier— a reminder of the past and his inability to perform. 

“I swore myself to this cause. I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry. I should be taking it.” He swept his arm across the table, sending the lyrium box flying. Elynil jumped away from the table. 

Cullen sank to the chair again, shoulders aching from his sudden outburst. He buried his head in his hands.

“I should be taking it.” He repeated, and his voice shook as pain forced tears out of his eyes.

Elynil knelt before him and took his hands in hers. He looked blankly at her small thin fingers wrapped around his. Elynil reached up and wiped the tears from his cheeks. 

“Forget the Inquisition,” she said, “is this what  _ you _ want?”

He sighed and allowed himself to lean into her warm hands. “No,” he whispered. “But… these memories have always haunted me… my dreams…” he shook his head. “If I cannot endure…”

“You can,” Elynil said firmly, forcing him to look at her. “You can, and you will. Don’t take it,” she squeezed his hand, “Cullen, you can do this.”

Tears came to his eyes again. He felt like a failure. He never wanted for her to see this side of him. What must she think now? He could barely look at her. She seemed so strong, so sure…  _ how? How can she know?  _ He tipped forward in his chair and she caught him, bringing his face gently to her shoulder as she cradled his head in her arms. Cullen drew a deep breath, taking in her light floral scent, mixed with hay from the stables, and a trace of mountain pine. He closed his eyes and listened to her steady pulse as he wrapped his arms around her, barely registering his own movement. He was so tired. Exhausted from the pain, the anxiety, he felt himself being pulled to sleep, right there in her arms. Elynil said something, and Cullen pulled himself out of the foggy depths of his groggy mind. He sat up, and she steadied him in the chair. 

“...Cole,” she said, louder this time. “Cole, come here, please. I need help.”

Cullen looked around at the door but it was still locked. There was no one else in the room.

“Feverish, warm. He needs sleep, he needs to rest, but we don’t want to be seen.” Cullen jumped as the young man suddenly appeared behind Elynil. She turned around, 

“Yes, Cole. Can you help me?” She asked gently, getting to her feet. 

Cole looked at her and nodded, a wide eyed expression, both hopeful and nervous. 

“I need Cassandra,” Elynil said, “I need her here. Can you get her for me, and come back here?”

Cole nodded and Cullen blinked hard as he disappeared again. 

“Why—“ he began. 

“You need rest,” Elynil said, stepping around the desk and gathering the papers that Cullen had strewn around the room. “But it’s better if no one asks questions just yet. You can’t climb your ladder,” she gestured to the tall ladder leading to his bed, “so you can use my bed. No one will come there to disturb you.”

Cullen’s face grew warm. “I— no, Elynil, I can’t come to your—“

“Cassandra and I will take reports and organize soldiers for the rest of the day while you rest,” she continued, ignoring his protest as she piled the papers on his desk. “That’s an order,” she said, smirking at him. 

He sighed and gripped the table to stand. “You’re in no position to give me orders,” he muttered, but his chest flooded with gratitude. She came and stood next to him, one hand hovering by his elbow in case he lost balance. 

“Watch me,” she said with a smile. He chuckled softly and reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“Anything you say,” he murmured. He let his hand rest on her cheek for a moment, letting it fall when he heard footsteps outside the door. Elynil crossed the room to unlock the door as Cassandra called out. 

“What’s the problem?” Cassandra asked, striding over to him. “The demon said—“ her eyes narrowed as she took in Cullen’s expression and the broken Lyrium phial on the desk. She clicked her tongue.

“I knew it. You are overworking yourself, Cullen,” she scolded. Before she could continue, Elynil gently rested a hand on her arm.

“I’m going to take Cullen to rest,” she said, and Cassandra nodded. “Can you take reports and fill in for the rest of the night?”

“Of course,” Cassandra said, expression a little softer now. Cullen knew she had a soft spot for the elven scout, especially after the events at Haven. 

“Thank you,” Cullen said. 

“Just take care of yourself,” Cassandra replied. 

“Cole, take him to my room,” Elynil said as she gathered Cullen’s fur cloak in her arms. “I’ll meet you there. Please make sure nobody sees.”

“We don’t need a lot of questions from the visiting nobles if they see our Commander today,” Cassandra said tersely. 

Cole nodded and helped Cullen out of the door. 

 

The walk to Elynil’s quarters was quiet and vacant, though Cullen couldn’t say if it was a coincidence or the effect of the spirit he was with. He hadn’t been alone with Cole before, and he felt a bit awkward as they walked in silence. 

“Cole,” he said hesitantly,  “How… how did you hear Elynil?”

“She called for me,” Cole replied. 

“Yes, I know,” Cullen pressed. “But how did you hear her? She didn’t even say your name loudly.”

Cole looked at him, a little confused. “She…  _ yelled _ ,” he said slowly. “I heard her. She yelled my name, over and over again. She was so loud…” he watched his feet as they walked.

“ _ needs to rest, needs to sleep, somewhere where they can’t find him, I need to take care of him—what happened while I was away?— how do I move him, he’s warm, he needs sleep. Cullen, Cullen, I need help— Cole. Cole.  _ **_Cole_ ** _.” _

“She called you by thinking it?” He asked, but Cole was moving ahead of him.

“Here,” Cole said as he pushed open the door to a private room. A window facing the valley below told Cullen they were still under the battlements. 

“Thank you, Cole,” Cullen sighed as he sank into the bed. Cole nodded.

Cullen looked around the small room. It was fairly sparse, save for the clutter of herbs, bowls and phials on her table— poisons? Potions?

“Both,” said Cole, still watching Cullen, but averting his eyes quickly when Cullen looked up at him. “She always carries an antidote with her, in case she poisons someone who needs to live.”

“You spend a lot of time with her?” Cullen started taking off his boots. Now that he thought about it, he felt that he had seen Cole around Elynil quite often, but he couldn’t remember for certain… 

“She’s…. steady,” Cole said slowly. “Usually. She knows what she wants, how to get it. She helps people, and people feel calmer when she’s there,” he explained. Cullen knew what the spirit meant. The healer was always relieved to see Elynil, as she always lent a hand when she could spare it, and the soldiers seemed to be at ease and learned quickly when she watched over training. 

“Except you,” Cole peered at Cullen through his long hair. “You get nervous, when she’s there, but it’s not always bad… you  _ want  _ to be with her, but you’re not calm when she comes…”

Cullen chuckled despite himself. The spirit was oddly charming, in a way. 

“Yes,” He murmured. “I can’t seem to stop that.”

“She’s not calm either,” Cole said. “Not around you. Her thoughts get loud and mixed up when she’s with you. It’s… _more._ _His strong arms when he held me, his laugh when I say something. Happy, but for how long? When will I have to leave, why can’t I stay with him? I want to. I can’t. I have to leave, before it’s too much. I want to stay. I want_ —“

“I know, Cole,” Cullen interrupted him. He didn’t want to think about that right now. He needed rest before he could figure out how to deal with that. 

“You can’t sleep if you’re wearing metal,” Cole said, pointing at Cullen’s armor. “She said, you have to take it off to sleep.” 

“Ah, right,” Cullen muttered as he began undoing his various straps and buckles. Cole stared at him as he removed his shoulder pauldrons and chest plates, and Cullen began to feel uncomfortable. 

“Erm… I think I’m fine now Cole.” He said, 

“They just…  _ come off _ ,” Cole whispered in wonder.

Elynil’s laugh came from the doorway. She walked in and placed a tray of various herbs, a bowl of water, and a cloth on the table in the corner of the room. She came over to Cullen and wrapped his cloak around his shoulders. 

“Of course they come off, Cole, he’s not made of steel,” she teased, and moved his armor to the desk. 

“Come on now,” she said gently to the curious spirit, who was now poking at Cullen’s softer shoulder. “Thank you for helping me. I’ll see you later, okay?” 

Cole nodded and disappeared.

Elynil closed the door and came back to the bed, opening up the blankets. 

“Go rest now,” she murmured, grazing Cullen’s shoulder with her hands as she walked to her desk. She ripped the herbs apart and soaked them and the cloth in the bowl of water. Cullen obliged and laid back in the hard bed, pulling the soft furs around him. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he felt the weight of sleep threaten to take him. He closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh as his body settled into the bed. His body ached and his eyes stung with lack of sleep. He had never been more thankful of anyone as much as he felt of Elynil in that moment. 

He felt the bed dip slightly and opened his eyes. His heart skipped a beat once more as his eyes met Elynil’s, leaning over him. Her black hair like a curtain beside them, she reached forward and wiped his forehead with the cool, damp cloth. She pressed it around his face and neck, cooling down his burning skin. Setting it on the bedside table, she spoke to him in a low voice.

“We will handle all reports for tonight,” she said, brushing a curl off his forehead. “I will let Josephine and Leliana know to send any news to us so you won’t be disturbed.”

“I’m sorry,” Cullen whispered, eyelids heavy now.

“Shh,” she answered, stroking his cheek gently, “don’t. Please. You did the same for me after Haven. Let me take care of this now.”

Cullen hummed as his eyes drooped. 

“Sleep now,” Elynil whispered, and made to move away. He found her fingers and held them limply. 

“Thank you,” He whispered, eyes closing as sleep took him.

Cullen felt her brush his forehead with her hand one more time as he slipped out of consciousness. Before his mind went dark, he felt something warm, soft press to his temple. 


	9. Feeling better

When Cullen woke, the small room was filled with the dusty orange light of dusk. Cullen swore under his breath. How long was he asleep? An hour? A day? He felt delirious as he tried to figure out what had happened. He looked around the room. He was alone, but there was a tray of food— bread, soup, and a couple of the sweet leaves that Elynil had given to him before. He smiled at her gesture and wolfed down the food, suddenly famished. A fresh set of clothing was folded neatly on the chair beside the bed.

Cullen changed his clothes gratefully— he had sweated and shivered through his old set while he slept, it seemed— but left his armor on the floor. Though his body no longer ached, he didn’t feel up to carrying around any extra weight. He wrapped his cloak around him and set out.

He opened the door and found himself coming out of the battlements, next to the stables. Lothan huffed and stamped his hoof at Cullen, who walked over and gently pat the beast on his muzzle. Lothan nuzzled appreciatively into his hands and mouthed at his cloak.

“Where is your lady, Lothan?” Cullen murmured to the hart. He looked around. The courtyard was quieter now, most of Skyhold’s people in the Great Hall for dinner. Cullen looked up at the battlements to see who he could find for information. His eyes scanned the tall walls until he saw a slender figure looking out in guard of southern tower, above the stables. Her black hair blew out behind her as she surveyed the mountains.

Cullen pat the Hart’s muzzle. “Good beast,” he muttered as he walked away.

Cullen climbed up the tower stairs, his heart beating too fast for comfort. He hadn’t thought of what to say to Elynil.

Just.. thank her. Tell her you’re there for her as well.

She was standing facing out at the mountains, enjoying the crisp breeze with her eyes closed. Cullen trailed his eyes over her features— her rosy lips, the red ensalin weaving across her high cheekbones, her long slender ears. He lost all thoughts of what to say; he could only concentrate on the beauty and grace of the woman who had saved him. The memory of him lethargically embracing her in his office suddenly flashed through his mind and Cullen felt his face burn again.

Stupid, careless, brash, arse—

“Feeling better?”

Cullen startled as he remembered that he was staring. She smiled at him, sending him into another frenzy as he collected his words.

“I—Yes. Much. Thank you.” He kicked himself in his head at his words.

“I wanted to thank you…” he tried starting again.

“You just did,” Elynil pointed out, laughing.

Cullen sighed, exasperated. “I, when you came to see me— if there’s anything— erm…” Cullen groaned, “this sounded much better in my head.”

Elynil laughed and beckoned him closer. He stood next to her and looked out over the flickering lights of the camping recruits in the valley below.

“You were sleeping for a little over a day,” she said, “I was going to call for the healer if you hadn’t woken up by night.”

Cullen sighed. “I apologize, I only meant to catch a little bit of rest—“

“And then we would be in the same position tomorrow,” finished Elynil, raising her eyebrows at him. “You falling over from exhaustion every few weeks is more destructive than you getting adequate rest every night. And stop apologizing,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Cullen chuckled. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. He watched her as she brushed her hair out of her face.

“I… never told anyone what truly happened in Ferelden’s Circle,” he said after a minute. “I was… not myself after that. I was angry. For years, that anger blinded me, drove me. I am not proud of the man that made me.” He sighed deeply and looked at Elynil with a slight smile.

“Now I can put some distance between myself and what happened. It’s a start.”

Elynil was silent for a moment. Cullen felt his stomach drop lower. Was she disgusted by him? She had always supported mages, he knew this. Was she appalled by his story?

“Revenge and anger are as potent and addicting as any lyrium,” Elynil said softly. “Many people become consumed by it, but you overcame. You will do the same with lyrium.” She turned to him and smiled. “And for what it’s worth,” she added, “I like who you are now.”

Cullen stared at her in disbelief. “Even...even after—“ he stuttered.

“Cullen,” she sighed, looking a little frustrated, “I care for you. You’ve done nothing to change that.”

Cullen’s heart was beating so forcefully he was sure she could hear it.

“I—“ He stammered, “I also…” He trailed off, watching her expectant face. He cleared his throat.

“When you went back to your clan,” he started. It was now or never, he had to tell her. “I was worried. I thought— maybe you wouldn’t come back. I thought you would stay with your clan… the thought of losing you, I—I couldn’t. I focused on reports instead, I tried to distract myself and—“

“That’s why you didn’t sleep?” She asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper. Cullen couldn’t look up to see her expression. Coward. Fool.

“Cullen… don’t you know why I came back?”

He kept his eyes fixed on the stone wall and shook his head. Only when she stepped closer to him did he look up. She was staring steadily at him, grey eyes flickering gold from the tower fire as the light around them slowly faded.

“The Keeper asked me to stay, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave the Inquisition. I couldn’t leave the fate of the world. But I had selfish reasons as well.” she stopped just inches away from him. Cullen held his breath.

“I couldn’t leave you. I didn’t want to. After I left— the whole time I was there, I thought about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about if you were safe, if you were in pain. When the Keeper asked me— I didn’t want to stay. I wanted to come back to you. I know that being— and you— I’m an elf!” She cried. “I know I cannot be with you— humans will cast you out. I know it’s selfish, but I want to. I want to stay with you, even just for a little while.”

She spoke in earnest, almost desperately. Cullen almost couldn’t believe what was happening.

“‘Selfish,’” he said, letting out his breath in a shaky laugh. “You? I wanted to keep you here, away from your family, your clan, and you say you’re selfish for this?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, he grabbed her waist and pulled her into him, wrapping his arm around her and burying his face into her hair. He couldn’t stop smiling. His chest felt so full, heart beating so fast that he thought he would burst if she weren’t there to contain him.

“I didn’t think… after everything, after yesterday…” he sighed.

“I’m still here,” she murmured, pulling back to look at him. Cullen smiled and stroked her cheek with his hand, brushing away flyaway hairs.

“So you are,” he whispered. “Of all things… I never thought my life would bring me here, to you…” he rested his forehead on hers. “Elynil…” Elynil, Elynil..

“I promise you,” he said, “no one can make me feel any different. If there are others who would treat us as outcasts, then so be it. I want nothing to do with a world without you. I have no need in my life for anyone who will come between us.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. Cullen choked back a painful lump in his throat. This cruel world would try to hurt her… he would rather be fed to darkspawn than to give her up.

“Stay with me,” he whispered. “Wherever you go, I will follow. But stay by my side.”

She tugged gently on his collar and drew him closer, closing the gap between their mouths. Cullen let his eyes fall shut as he breathed into the kiss, squeezing her against him. She was warm, soft… the movement of her silky lips against his was smoother and sweeter than any Lyrium, and Cullen briefly forgot where they were in the war on the world around them. When they pulled apart, Cullen could see nothing else but the woman in his arms.

“The men will talk,” she said, “and the nobles. I know they don’t like seeing me with you…”

“Let them,” Cullen said gruffly. “I have no use for them. Elynil,” he took her face between his palms and looked into her eyes. He needed her to understand. “I have been waiting so long for this. There is nothing— nothing — that can draw me away now.”

Elynil nodded. “I have too,” she said, “Cullen, I’ve wanted this for so long…”

“I’m here now,” he said, and brought her chin up to kiss her cheek. He smiled and turned her head slightly to kiss the other side. She smiled and closed her eyes, feeling his gentle caress. Cullen kissed the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then her neck. She shivered slightly when his lips grazed her neck and he smirked into her skin. He straightened back up and kissed her lips, once more for good measure, and sighed happily.

“We shouldn’t stay here, I’ll get ahead of myself,” he laughed. Elynil looked around and the darkened mountains and the soft glow coming from the hall of Skyhold.

“As much as I would like that,” she sighed melodramatically, “we have business to attend to.” She nodded her head toward the Great Hall, where the Inquisitor was standing in the flood of light, along with Josephine. Leliana was walking up the steps to join them


	10. Halamshiral

Cullen and Elynil walked through the double doors of the War Room to find the Inquisitor’s head buried in his hands, leaning across the War Table. He was groaning as though in pain, but as Cullen moved forward to check on him, Elynil gave a snort beside him. 

“What noble is coming to Skyhold this time?” She asked Josephine with a smirk. 

Before she could answer, the Inquisitor gave a muffled moan. “It’s  _ worse _ ,” he said as he dragged himself up to standing. 

“The Inquisitor is going to the nobles, this time,” Leliana said, not looking up from the report she was reading, “as, in fact, are we all.” She handed the report to Cullen, who scanned Josephine’s writing. It was a list of things to prepare for the Inquisitor and the advisors for a soirée… at the winter palace. 

Cullen joined the Inquisitor in groaning. “Surely we don’t  _ all  _ need to—“

“There is a threat on Empress Celine’s head,” interrupted Leliana. “If we have any chance of stopping or uncovering who is behind this, I think we should all be there.” 

Elynil looked over Cullen’s shoulder to the list in his hand and barked out a laugh. 

“ _ Dancing _ ?” She laughed. “Ir abelas, Ashaanon, I wish I could see that.”

“You very well may,” said Leliana, a smirk dancing across her lips, “you will be joining us, along with your scouts. We need eyes and ears around the Winter Palace.”

Elynil’s face went white. “I— _ me _ ?” She stammered. “But I— do I have to learn to dance as well?” There was a hint of panic in her voice. Cullen sympathized with her heavily, though he couldn’t help but laugh at her expression, coupled with her previous mockery of the Inquisitor. 

“ _ That’s  _ what you’re worried about?” He laughed. She pouted slightly. 

“Among other things…” she muttered. “I feel like one elf in the court is enough for the shems to talk about.”

“And elf  _ mage _ ,” groaned the Inquisitor. “I’d at least be the best dressed there, Josephine— I don’t know how well I can strut for them if I’m dressed in rags.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with that pretty Tevinter, Ashaanon,” Elynil said. The Inquisitor smirked. 

“They’re going to love us. I demand we bring Iron Bull, as well,” he said, and Cullen saw a spark of mischief in his eyes. 

Josephine sighed, though Cullen saw the corner of her mouth twitch. “Of course, we will have nothing but the finest our tailors can offer, Inquisitor. And, if you  _ insist _ , then Lord Pavus and the Iron Bull may join us. Although, to counteract this, I will see that Cassandra and Lady Vivienne also join us. They will surely be an asset to our image in the court. And Lady Lavellan,” She said, turning to Elynil with a smile, “you will not have to take any dancing lessons, as you will be under disguise along with your scouts in the palace.”

“The Winter Palace has long…  _ employed  _ an elven wait staff.” Leliana wrinkled her nose as she said the word. “We were planning to disguise you and your elven scouts as part of the new staff in order to find out more about both the nobles attending and Briala, the elven woman previously part of Celene’s court, whom we’ve talked of before. I know this isn’t the best—“

“No, Lady Nightingale, this is perfect,” Elynil looked relieved at the news. “I would prefer this.” 

Cullen couldn’t help but feel disappointed, even though he was happy that Elynil wouldn’t have to concern herself with snooty human nobles. He was a bit hopeful that she would stay by his side during the ball so that he wouldn’t lose his mind around Orlais’ upper class. He already felt a dread creeping up on him as he thought about the ball. Stuffy outfits and the stupid Game… he sighed. 

“I’m glad to see you looking better, Cullen,” Leliana said. Cullen looked up, surprised. 

“Oh, yes, thank you. I’m afraid I have some catching up to do, however,” he said, rubbing his neck. 

She nodded. “Cassandra will update you thoroughly later. Please try not to overwork yourself in the future.” Josephine nodded in agreement. 

“Of course. Thank you, Leliana.” Cullen marveled for a moment the sudden tender gesture from the Spymaster. Another profound effect of the Lavellan’s influence.

The meeting concluded and Josephine and Leliana left the room, the spymaster and Elynil talking quickly about further plans to get the scouts to the Winter Palace as they left to go to the Spy tower. Cullen gathered the pile of reports he needed to catch up on and headed out of the door with The Inquisitor.

As they walked down the hallway, The Inquisitor spoke. 

“I assume you two figured things out,” he said in a low voice. 

Cullen felt himself go red. “Er—“ the memory of their impassioned kiss atop the tower just hours ago flashed in his mind. 

The Inquisitor laughed and clapped him in the shoulder. “Good. Do you know how hard it was to see my cousin in pain, but I couldn’t hate the man responsible?”

Cullen grimaced. “I’m sorry—“ he started, but the Inquisitor shook his head firmly. 

“Don’t be. I know it wasn’t easy for you either. But you know what this means, yes?” He turned to look at Cullen, his grey eyes piercing, uncharacteristically serious. “To you, your roles at Halamshiral will be just that— roles to play in front of shems. But they see it as the truth, with or without her disguise.” 

Cullen didn’t break eye contact as he nodded. “Yes, I understand.”

There was a moment’s pause as the two men looked at each other. Then the Inquisitor broke into a grin. 

“Good. I knew you would.” He opened the door to Josephine’s room, giving a melodramatic, exaggerated sigh. “Alright, Josie, show me the bloody steps, give me a book to balance on my head, whatever you need to do.”

  
  
  


 

Cullen leaned back in his hard wooden chair, rubbing his eyes, strained from reading reports in the candle light. He looked to the corner where his formal attire for Halamshiral stood on a wooden model, grunting in disgust at the shiny finishes on red velvet and the satin navy sash. It was all too gaudy for his taste. The Winter Palace soirée was two weeks away. 

A knock came at his door. Cullen sat up, slightly concerned. Who would it be this late at night? 

“Come in,” He called. The door opened and his heart skipped a beat as Elynil stopped into the flickering firelight. 

“I saw your fire was still going,” she said, nodding as she crossed the floor to him. She was dressed in her thick furs for travel, her twin blades hanging at her sides and her large hood covering her hair. Cullen stood up and met her on the other side of his table, where he leaned back on as he took her hands and pulled her towards him. 

“I hoped you’d stopped by,” he murmured, gently resting his forehead against hers. “You’re going now?” She nodded, squeezing his hands gently. She and her scouts were going to the Winter Palace before the rest of the company to effectively blend in with the other Palace servants. 

“Be safe,” Cullen said, brushing her hood down to see her face better. She smiled, resting her hands on his chest. 

“You’re telling me, but I’m not the one who needs to talk to those blood suckers,” she laughed. Cullen chuckled, rolling his eyes. 

“I’ll need all the luck I can get,” he sighed. He rubbed her sides, feeling the fur around her. “You’re warm enough?” She nodded.

“You take care of yourself, please,” she murmured, “you’re going to need all your energy.” He nodded. 

“I will,” he promised. He suddenly remembered, and reached behind him in his desk to pick up the small ironbark dagger he had been holding onto since the night in the tavern, after Adamant. “Here,” He said, handing her the dagger, which glowed bloody red in the firelight. “I keep forgetting to give this back to you.”

“Oh, right,” Elynil looked down at it, thinking for a moment before smiling and pushing it back to him. “Keep it.” 

Cullen looked at her, surprised. “But—“

“It’ll just sit in my saddle while I’m there, anyway. Keep it. Here—“ she reached into her leather pouch and pulled out a small leather sheath. “This is the sheath.” Cullen took it, still marveling at the workmanship of the blade. 

Elynil smiled. “I know you like that one, you’re always staring at it when I pull it out.” 

“It’s so beautiful,” he admitted. “And…” he hesitated, slightly embarrassed. “It reminds me of you. Not just because it’s yours—“ he added, “but… the blade. It reminds me of your ensalin. It’s beautiful.”

Elynil grinned at him, her beautiful smile soft and glowing up at him. 

“It matches mine, you know,” she said, pulling one of her blades slightly out of the sheath so he could see the glint of her bloodstone blade. “That dagger was the first blade that was made for me. Our clan’s crafter, Master Ewin, gave it to me when I got my ensalin. It was a tradition we have in our clan. Ashaanon has one as well, but his is made from veridium.”

“I’ll take good care of it,” Cullen promised, sheathing the dagger and wrapping the ties into his belt. 

“Now you have something of me when I’m not with you,” murmured Elynil. Cullen looked at her, touched, but she flushed red and pulled a face, groaning. 

“Oh, Dread Wolf take me, that was  _ so _ …” she dissolved into grumbles as Cullen laughed, throwing his head back. 

“Just pretend I didn’t say that,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes as she shoved his shoulder gently. Cullen pulled her closer, still laughing. 

“I won’t,” he teased, earning another face. “Because I  _ will  _ use it for that. Thank you,” he said. 

“Hmph.” Elynil said, rolling her eyes again. 

Cullen took her face in his hands and pulled her up slightly as he leaned down and kissed her. Her hands reached up to wrap themselves around his neck as she deepened the kiss. The feeling of her soft lips, her scent, steady breathing, her taste… the way his heart pounded in his chest as he tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he was really kissing her. Cullen lost himself in their touch. 

They pulled apart reluctantly as the low horn signaling the departure time of the scouts rang out. Cullen tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, fingers trailing the curved point of it. She brought his hand to her lips, kissing his fingers. 

“I’ll see you soon,” she murmured.

Cullen nodded. “Take care,” he said. She backed out of his arms, giving his hand a last gentle squeeze before walking out of the door. Cullen sighed as the door slammed shut, but he couldn’t help his smile as he touched his lips. 

Two weeks, and he would follow her. He took out the bloodstone dagger from his belt and studied the reflection of the room on the blade. Two weeks. 

  
  
  


 

 

Cullen tugged his gloves over his hands as he stepped out of the marble floor room he had slept in the previous night. As guests of Empress Celene, they had been provided with a guest house, complete with satin sheets and gold adornments on the bed posts. Cullen had never slept in such lavish quarters and felt rather out of place, becoming exceedingly uncomfortable when a small elven woman came to offer him tea the night before. He had jumped up from the bed he sat on to take the tray from her, stammering for her not to bother herself, but instead seemed to confuse and frustrate her as he swept the things out of her arms as she attempted to tidy the room. The ball hadn’t even started and Cullen was already feeling exhausted from the thought of it. 

“Well, you look dashing,” The Inquisitor joined Cullen in front of the hall mirror where Cullen was tugging the high neck of his attire, trying in vain to make it a little less uncomfortable. The Inquisitor was dressed in dark green velvet, a gold sash draped across his body. 

Cullen grunted as he fixed his collar. “How come I couldn’t get a darker color like you?” He grumbled. 

The Inquisitor laughed. “Cullen, even if you wore brown and grey, the nobles’ hearts would still flutter.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Cullen muttered. 

“Oh, I know,” said the Inquisitor with a smile, eyeing the small dagger hanging from Cullen’s belt. “You already have something more valuable.”

Cullen flushed. “I’m holding onto it for safekeeping,” he said. 

The Inquisitor raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Sure,” He said dismissively. “Did she tell you about our daggers?” 

“She told me she was given it when she received her ensalin,” Cullen said, unsure if that that was what the Inquisitor was getting at. He nodded.

“They’re specially made by the crafter of our clan,” he explained, fixing his hair in the mirror. “Each one is unique, made for the owner when we receive our ensalin— a sort of coming of age tradition for our clan. But only one is made, and he never makes it again. We treasure them as highly as our life. The fact that she gave hers to you…” the Inquisitor smiled at Cullen through the mirror— Cullen wasn’t sure where to look— “you’re a lucky man.”

Cullen couldn’t help but smile as he touched the ironbark hilt. “I know,” he murmured. He knew the dagger was valuable, but this…? What did Elynil mean by giving it to him? 

“Come, off we go,” The Inquisitor sighed. “I suppose it was too much to hope that the ball would be suddenly canceled.”

  
  
  


 

 

Cullen gladly took a goblet from a servant as they passed, not to drink, but only for something to do with his hands. He stood stiffly by a balcony, trapped into a corner with a group of Orlesians around him. He was barely listening to what they were chattering about, instead darting his eyes around the room, watching Josephine and Vivienne chat jovially with the nobles. He couldn’t understand how they could look so  _ happy _ . 

“Enjoying yourself, ser?” A familiar, bell like voice. Cullen looked around to see— Elynil… but she looked different. Her ensalin was gone— painted over to match her skin. She was dressed in servant attire and had her hair wrapped up in a scarf. 

Cullen had to hold back from grabbing her hand. He was so,  _ so  _ glad to see her after being away from her. He tried to convey this with a look, though he may have come off as in pain rather than relieved because she quickly covered her mouth from a smirk. 

She nodded her head towards the balcony and turned to walk away. Cullen turned to the balcony, but as he did,he heard one of the noblemen he had been talking to speak out. 

“You there! Did you not see me? More wine!” The nobleman was dangling his goblet in Elynil’s face, almost knocking it into her. Elynil glared at the man, and Cullen saw the cold flash of her grey eyes— a look he hadn’t seen since the day they met at Haven. But that cold look to Cullen was nothing compared to her glare now. Had he not been barreling towards the noble, anger growing like a fire in his chest, he may have found it as terrifying as the noblewomen did as they shrunk away from her. 

Cullen grabbed the man by the arm and whirled him around, keeping him tight so he couldn’t back away. 

“Don’t talk to her,” he growled. He couldn’t stand the thought of letting any of these horrid people talking to Elynil. He had half a mind to shove the man, but a glare over the man’s shoulder from Josephine made him change his mind. She was walking over hurriedly, and Cullen let go of the man and turned brusquely out onto the balcony. He took a deep breath as the cooler air hit him. Elynil had gestured to the balcony… there must be something here.

Cullen looked around, seeing nothing, until he spotted a small rock on the balcony ledge tucked away behind the open double doors. He lifted it, and smiled when he saw a single sweet leaf hidden under the rock. He chuckled, feeling his rage melting away, and slipped it into his mouth. The sweet juices burst as he chewed, and he leaned against the balcony, taking another deep breath as he steeled himself to go back inside. 

  
  


 

 

The music had resumed and drink flowing once more, and Cullen took the chance to escape to the balcony once more. He leaned over the side of the balcony and let out a deep breath as the excitement of the night slowly settled, and the anxiety that had been gripping his chest was starting to loosen up. 

“Your admirers are looking for you,” Elynil said softly, and Cullen smiled as he turned to greet her. 

“Let them,” he murmured, reaching out a hand. She took it, giving his fingers a gently squeeze. 

“Not enjoying the attention, Commander?” She teased. 

Cullen rolled his eyes. “They just  _ keep talking _ ,” he said. “And besides,” he lowered his voice, “yours is the only attention worth having.” Elynil flushed but smiled happily. She look him up and down.

“You look nice,” she said. Cullen groaned and she laughed. “No, really,” she insisted. 

“It’s stiff and uncomfortable,” he sighed. 

“You look different without the ensalin,” he stroked her cheek, fingers trailing where he knew the red lines were hidden. “But so beautiful as always. How did this happen to someone like me?” 

Elynil smiled. “One unfortunate circumstance after another. I’m just glad I found you through it,” she said softly, closing the distance between them to touch their foreheads together. Cullen loved this subtle embrace they shared, their breaths becoming one, being able to savor the moment of peace between them among the chaos in the world.  

The musicians began a slow waltz. Cullen straightened up and back away a few steps. Elynil cocked her head in a question, but he just held his hand out and bowed slightly. 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get this chance again, so… may I have this dance, my lady?” He asked, smiling. 

Elynil laughed, taking his hand. “Dance? Us?” She giggled. “As well as we can, I suppose,” she said, and place her other hand on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her waist. 

They stepped to the music, Elynil unable to contain her soft laughing as she watched their feet trip and stumble into each other. Cullen laughed as he spun her around, tipping backwards almost to far and apologizing hastily when he stepped on her toes. He hadn’t felt so…  _ light _ in years. In fact he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so free of burden and worry. Cullen looked down at the beautiful woman in his arms and couldn’t help his grin as she laughed at their clumsy steps.

A group of chattering nobles passed by the double doors, and Cullen swept them in the corner, hidden behind the open doors. He let go of Elynil’s hand and wrapped both arms around her waist now, tipping back to lean against the wall as he drew her into him, letting his head rest on her shoulder as they caught their breath, still laughing. 

Elynil wrapped her arms under Cullen’s, pressing herself against his chest. 

“We’re pretty awful at that,” she breathed, and Cullen could hear her smile. 

“I’m happy it’s not just me,” he teased, laughing when she nudged him reproachfully. “But I’m quite happy remaining like this instead,” he murmured, placing a gently kiss on her neck. She hummed in approval. 

“You wore this tonight…?” She asked, suddenly feeling the dagger between them. He looked down at the dagger then at her. 

“I haven’t taken it off since you gave it to me,” he said truthfully. “And I needed the courage tonight, of knowing you were here with me.” He cradled her face in her hand, running his thumb against her lip.

Elynil reached up to his collar and tugged his face down closer to meet her lips. Cullen responded, deepening the kiss as he pulled her closer, arms wrapping around her back. The music carried on, the chattering of nobles wafting through the doors, but they ignored it all as they lost themselves in each other.


End file.
